


Spying

by A_Fool_in_Love



Category: Farseer Trilogy - Robin Hobb
Genre: F/M, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fool_in_Love/pseuds/A_Fool_in_Love
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Royal Assassin between chapters 17 and 18. Fitz is given a spying mission by Chade, who suspects that someone is leaking information to the Outislanders. Fitz ends up spying on the Fool out of curiosity, but ends up with more questions than answers. Boy!Fool in this one, at least as far as Fitz knows. I cannot promise regular updates, but none of my stories will ever simply die. Now with more Fool, come chapter six!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suspicions

The crackling fire was small. Just enough to add some light to the windowless room and to add the smell of smoke to the noxious fumes already permeating the air. I yawned but ended up coughing. Chade gave me a dirty look and I scowled back.

”Pay attention, boy. You're supposed to be watching for a colour change.”

”I'm watching,” I defended myself and squinted into glass. Chade had spent the last few hours boiling leaves, adding various powders to the solutions, and scribbling on a sheet of parchment. Slink the weasel nearly knocked over a pot of something in his attempt to climb onto the bench top and I caught it, but barely. I laughed and Chade glowered at both of us then resumed adding tiny pinches of white granules into the swirling, bubbling, steaming liquid. It was currently yellow.

I yawned again and rubbed my nose. I wondered if Chade's eyes were getting bad. “Did you only summon me to watch the colour?”

Chade paused in his adding of powders and swirled the flask, peering into it and scribbling again. “You'll need to learn how to create this eventually, Fitz. You're here to pay attention and to learn.”

I could think of many other things that I would rather be doing. I had been hoping to sneak off to visit Molly, but the faint light and draft that signaled Chade's opening of the secret passage way in my bedchamber had dashed those hopes.

 _The grey one would understand that you want to mate the bitch._ Nighteyes intruded into my thoughts. _You should go. That would be much more fun. Less smelly, too._

My cheeks went a bit pink and I think that Chade took it as a sign of my being properly chastised. _I'm not telling Chade that. And what I do with Molly is private._

_You could come to hunt with me instead._

_I wish that I could._

Chade cried out in triumph as the liquid turned a milky pink. He swirled the flask for a moment and then poured the liquid into another flask through a cloth. The liquid that dripped through was red, but the powder that remained in the cloth was white. “There, you see?” He smiled proudly, “And now this extract can be sprinkled into a glass of wine or a bowl of soup and is much easier to conceal than the leaves themselves would be.”

I nodded blearily. “I'll only have to find the time to boil leaves and watch for colour changes before I do.”

”Don't be smart with me, boy. If you prepare a sizeable batch you need not repeat the process too often, provided that you store it in a clean vial or waxed parchment away from water.”

”Yes, I know. And store things carefully so that I don't forget what's where.” I stretched. “Are we done now?”

”So impatient. Come sit with me by the fire.” Chade scraped the powder from the cloth into a glass dish and brought it to the fire to dry. I hoped that the steam wasn't toxic and I sat a little further from the fire than usual. Chade took residence in his chair. Slink climbed up onto his lap.

 _Food._ Thought Nighteyes. 

_No, pack._ I corrected.

Nighteyes dismissed my correction like he would shake away a fly. He was looking for prey.

”Now, I have a job for you.” Chade informed me solemnly.

”What is it?” I asked.

”As you know, the Red Ship Raiders have been avoiding our patrol effortlessly, and they have been ready for our defenses. I believe we may have a leak of information somewhere. Either a member of the guard or someone close to them who has little to lose by selling information. Someone desperate enough to sell it knowing that Six Duchies lives were at stake.”

”Someone with debt then? Or maybe the Outislanders have taken a family member hostage?”

”Perhaps. I want you to investigate and see what you can find. Report what you learn to me and I'll determine where we should go from there.”

I nodded. A simple spying mission. “What if I don't find anything?”

”I will be pursuing other options. If any seem more likely then we'll focus our efforts there. The sooner we discover the leak, the sooner we can put an end to these damned raids.”

To end the evening, Chade set out a row of objects from a drawstring bag. It was an old game that we used to play and I smiled at the nostalgia despite myself. When I had been younger I'd loved the games that Chade would play with me. Verity had given me some of his old toys, and I had Nosey and the town children as companions when I was younger, but Chade was different. I lost touch with all of the town children once Burrich took me in hand, and none of the children in the keep were interested in playing with the Bastard. Chade was the only one who invited me to play, and I drank in his attention like the land drinks in rain after a drought. Chade was like I imagined a father would be. Teaching me and praising me or scolding me. I was a bit old for the game now, but I still played and I still felt a tingle of pride when I was able to remember all of the contents of his bag. On that night I stumbled on a few objects, but got them all right in the end.

Chade nodded his approval. “Very good. You'll be needing those skills soon. Remember, I want you to report every detail to me, no matter how insignificant it may seem.”

I yawned again, “Yes, Chade.”

Chade shook his head in fond exasperation, “Go on, to bed with you. You'll be no use to me half asleep.”

”Goodnight, Chade.”

I made my way down the stairs, taking a candle with me and then extinguishing it before the light could enter my chamber. If an intruder had entered, I would not want to alert them to my arrival. No one had intruded though, and I stumbled over a discarded tunic before making my way into my narrow bed. The tapestry of King Wisdom and the Elderlings looked eerie in the moonlight that filtered through my window. I began to think of how I would begin my mission and how I would apologize to Molly for not visiting her again, but I fell asleep before coming to any conclusions.

The next morning I groaned at the first rays of sunshine and buried myself under the covers for a few indulgent moments. How Chade expected me to function after a full day of training and errands and half a night of being the assassin's apprentice, I would never understand. I dozed for some time, then had to hurry to shave and dress myself. I ran my fingers through my hair and tied it back hastily. I pulled on my boots and then threw open my door, nearly trampling the Fool who stood in the doorway. He managed to look very offended for someone who was blocking my way. Luckily for us both, I stopped in time and blinked at him, wondering if I still slept.

King Shrewd's jester was dressed in a bright display of greens and yellows with little ribbon flowers attached seemingly at random. Ratsy was wearing a matching ribbon around his neck. The mess of bright colours was shocking and made the Fool's complete lack of pigment even more apparent. The shorter boy cleared his throat and raised himself up on his toes then down again. For some reason he was carrying a tray with a serving dish and a little vase of flowers.

”Uhm. Good morning, Fool.” I greeted, bewildered.

”Good morning? A fine morning indeed for those of us who've been awake to enjoy it! It's a shame that you missed out.”

”I didn't sleep in that badly.” I scowled. “But I am late. Not to be rude, but I should be on my way.”

”I've been on your way for you. Here.” He thrust the tray into my hands. “I doubt our dear kingling will notice your delay.”

”Oh.” I blinked. “Well, thank you.” I stepped around the Fool then turned to shut my door. The Fool continued to hover. “Was there something that you wanted?”

”I once wanted a fish that was too big for me to keep in my fish bowl. I also wanted a particular pinwheel made in the shape of a flower. I wanted fish for dinner yesterday, but we were served pork instead.”

”I meant, well, I should probably deliver this to King-in-Waiting Verity now, so if you had anything else that you wanted to say, you might want to say it before I go.”

”No need. I'll come with you.”

And so the two of us walked in awkward silence up to Verity's tower room, the Fool pausing every so often so that Ratsy could inspect a dusty corner or alcove. The Fool would then hold his scepter close and nod as though listening to Ratsy's report and make the occasional exclamation. We made for an odd pair and I ducked my head when people passed and stared.

I thought that Verity would question the Fool's presence when we arrived, but he seemed to notice us not at all, absorbed as he was in his Skilling. I put the tray on the table and uncovered the contents. I frowned at Verity's tea and sniffed it. “This isn't right.” I frowned at the Fool. “Verity takes a special tea in the mornings.”

The Fool somehow managed to look down his nose at me despite being several inches inferior in height, “I assure you that it is more right than whatever mess you've been delivering.” He then proceeded to ignore me and took Ratsy to inspect the scene out the window. He stared outside at the sea for a time and then looked at Verity who still seemed not to notice us. He looked back out the window. Then he stuck his face so close to Verity's that their noses nearly touched.

”Fool.” I rebuked him.

The Fool crossed his eyes and twisted his face into a grimace.

When Verity came back to himself he startled. The Fool startled too and fell backwards into a tumble that he used to flip himself right way up again.

I decided to ignore him. “Verity, we've brought your breakfast.”

Verity gave a weak smile at the Fool's antics and then turned to look at the food. He made an expression of distaste but nevertheless took his place at the table. “Flowers, FitzChivalry?”

”The Fool's work, not mine.”

The Fool huffed, “Yes, do not give the boy too much credit, my Kingling. I'm surprised that he did not put his tights on his head, his tunic on his feet, and a shoe on each ear.” He padded over and plucked the flowers from the table then placed them on the smaller table by the window. “A bit of beauty to look at when your eyes see too much of wicked things.”

Verity nodded, “A kind gesture, Fool. Thank you. How is my father lately?”

”Not well,” the Fool answered bluntly. “Wall-ass fills him full of herbs and farts out great clouds of smoke so that one can hardly see or breathe in his presence.”

”I should see him some time... but I'm afraid my work here requires too much of my time.” Verity's eyes drifted to the window, “Even now I fear that I am missing some evil doing.”

”You need to eat,” I pointed out. “You need to keep up your strength.”

”Yes,” Verity agreed, looking morosely down at his plate, “That is so, isn't it?” He picked up the tea and sipped it. After a pause he took another sip and seemed not displeased with the change.

”You should see your lady wife, too.” The Fool suggested, “There is something to be said for spending ones strength as well.”

I coughed.

We left Verity's company after I'd been sure that he ate most of what was given to him. I hoped that we would practice more with the Skill together soon, but did not want to add a request to Verity's worries. I turned to ask the Fool why he'd come with me that morning, but he had vanished.

I continued on my way after shaking my head at the Fool's strange idea of acceptable behaviour. I went to the kitchens to return the tray and to win a bit of breakfast from Cook Sara.

”Up late, were you?” Cook Sara queried me teasingly as she pounded on a mound of dough.

”Um. Sort of. I had trouble sleeping.” I smiled, sliding onto my usual stool across from her, but far enough to the side that I didn't become covered in flour.

Cook Sara gave me a knowing look, “Don't be shy with me, young man! King Shrewd's fool was in here earlier going on about how he'd been forced to pick up your slack now that an unnamed maiden has addled your brains. His words, not mine.”

I gaped at her, “I just slept in, honestly!”

Cook Sara flipped her pile of dough over with a thud and clucked her tongue, “You've never before spoken a lie to me, not even to deny sneaking a bit of pudding, so I'll believe you now.”

A kitchen girl, used to my habits, slid a plate of roasted meat and dumplings in front of me with a wink. I thanked her before returning my conversation to Cook Sara, “The Fool spoke only to cause mischief, I expect.” I smiled at her while inwardly seething at the Fool. The kitchen girl giggled a little and hurried off to her duties. I leaned closer to Cook Sara, thinking to turn the conversation in a more helpful direction .”Someone else has been creating a stir though. I heard that one of the captains of the guard has been having an affair with a noble's daughter.” I had heard no such thing, of course, but Cook Sara would either add her own rumours to what I'd said or correct me, and information could be gained from either.

Cook Sara raised her eyebrows and puffed out her plump cheeks in a whistle as she began to pull knobs of dough from the lump and twist them deftly into shape. An assistant passed over the nuts and spices that she'd been crushing together with a mortar and pestle. Cook Sara drizzled some honey over the mixture and stirred it, then pressed spoonfuls of it into the buns. I busied myself eating my meal, waiting for her to speak. The dumplings were soft and buttery, and the meat was roasted to perfection. “This is delicious.” I complimented.

Cook Sara smiled. “Well, you say it's a captain of the guard, and I'll not contradict that, but all I've been hearing is that the lass is a Farrow merchant's daughter, not a noble's, no matter how finely she might dress.”

This was better than I'd expected. Trying not to be too eager I voiced a bit of skepticism, “Only a merchant's daughter then? If so, there's nothing so scandalous about it.”

”Oh-ho! That's what you think.” Cook Sara seemed pleased to have something over me. “Do you know the family Ivory? They've been taking advantage of the new trade agreements made with the Mountain Kingdom from what I've heard. Amber, furs, lumber... They're doing quite well for themselves! Ivory had been hoping that Lord Bright, son of Duke Holder, would make an offer for her hand, so wealthy have they become.”

My eyebrows rose. “Ivory must not be pleased at the rumours then.”

”When I first heard the news, I thought that Ivory would be at the keep faster than a dog'll roll over. Surprisingly, we've seen neither hide nor hair of him.”

”But his daughter is still at court?”

She was, and so my next move would be to find the identity of the captain and whether he had access to any privileged information. If it were so, then I would search the daughter's rooms for evidence of suspicious correspondence.


	2. Rendezvous

In two more days, I discovered that the captain's name was Merryhew, and that Ivory's daughter was named Honora. By enlisting Chade's assistance, or rather that of one of his spies, I learned that the two had arranged to meet in the gardens in the time between the end of drill and the beginning of the evening meal. It was a clever decision because most of the servants would be occupied and most of the nobles would be dressing themselves. I concealed myself amongst some bushes in the shade of a large tree, and there I sat in wait.

When my ears first detected the soft murmur of voices it was some minutes later and I had almost begun to doze in the comfortable evening warmth. I gave my head a shake and cast my gaze about. The voices were out of sight and the words were muffled with distance. Cursing to myself, I checked my surroundings then abandoned my hiding place to approach the source of the voices.

I found a new place of concealment next to a statue in the middle of a cluster of rose bushes. I gave myself several scratches, but I was thankfully undetected. The voices were clearer now and were drawing nearer. My place overlooked a stone bench and several other statues of Eda and various flower spirits. With bated breath, I waited.

”Your poor hand. Does it hurt very badly?” A woman's voice.

”This? It is hardly a scratch. You know that I have had worse. Do you suggest that those arrogant children could have hurt me? Why, they are so filled with their own hot air, prick them with a pin and they should explode on the spot, leaving nothing but a black stain and an unpleasant smell. I suspect it's because their noses are so far in the air. If I should desire revenge I would need simply to leave them out in the rain for several hours and they would have drowned. They haven't the intelligence to come inside in a storm.”

The second voice was lower, a boy then, but not the rumbling baritone I'd been expecting. The pair came into the small clearing and I was surprised to see the Fool walking with a girl about my age with golden hair and much freckled from the sun. Incredulous, I watched. The pair sat on the bench, the girl with her hands clasped on her lap, and the Fool kicking his feet with a leisurely energy. The girl's hands were clean and a bit red from scrubbing, but her arms were dusty. Probably from the black earth of the garden. There were leaves in her untidy hair. A garden maid then, and the Fool's friend? Lover? If they had arranged a tryst then she would have made herself more presentable, and there was no evidence of nervousness from either of them. The Fool's white hair glittered like snow in the sunlight and he was cradling his left hand close to his body.

”That isn't a very nice thing to say.” The girl scolded the Fool mildly with a smile on her face.

”Oh no? Should I then say that Justin is such a weasely fellow that his chambers are always free of mice? He eats them bones and all. It is why his breath smells so horridly and his eyes are so beady.”

The girl giggled, “I expect that he steals chicken's eggs too. Give me your hand. I'll bandage it, if you like?”

The Fool looked puzzled, but gave the girl his hand like a dog performing a trick. “Do you always carry bandages with you, Garetha? You had some with you the first time we met, too.”

”A lot of the plants here have thorns. Like those rose bushes yonder. I'm forever scratching and cutting myself. See all of the scars? Mistress Goldenrod said that I was such a clumsy girl I ought to carry them with me, and so I do.” She inspected the Fool's hand while she spoke. I noticed that she did not flinch from touching the Fool's skin, which was usually pale and cold as death.

The Fool's eyes went to the rose bushes and I felt as though he looked right at me, though I had concealed myself well. “Do be careful of thorns in the future.”

Garetha smiled, “Oh, don't worry about me. I'm used to them now. I don't think anything is broken, but you'll bruise and it'll stand out spectacularly.”

”Mm. I'll wear my blue and red motley to match. Later I shall wear the yellow and green again.”

A tiny stoppered pot of unguent was taken from the same pouch from which the bandages had come, and Garetha dabbed a small amount onto the cut on the Fool's hand after wiping the worst of the blood away. It looked very red. “That'll keep infection away.” She explained, then wrapped the hurt well.

”Thank you.” 

”Did you find what you were looking for earlier?”

The Fool gave an absent minded nod, considering the rose bushes again. “Yes, I do believe I did.” He stood and Garetha stood too. I thought that he would make some joke, but the Fool looked down at Garetha looking both serious and a bit awkward, which was an expression I had never seen on his face before. He spoke clearly and I heard him easily. I almost wondered if he had seen me and was speaking to me. “Keep out of sight for a while. If he finds you, he'll probably interrogate you.” Then he pitched his voice lower and his next words were frustratingly inaudible to me. Garetha blushed beneath her many freckles and the Fool departed. I remained where I was for a time, feeling angry. Was it because I'd gotten distracted from my mission or was I somehow jealous? I had not thought that the Fool had any other friends besides myself. A silly thing to be jealous over and I shook the thought out of my head.

Deciding to err on the side of caution, I paid heed to the advice that may or may not have been for me and I stayed out of sight. The garden was warm, but not hot, and I was quite comfortable in the shade. The fragrance of the roses was pleasant, and the occasional bee buzzed by.Time passed and I once again grew frustrated. Had I missed the rendezvous because of my eavesdropping? Perhaps the Fool's words had not been for me and I had spent the last while sitting about for nothing.

Some minutes later, a woman who I hoped was Honora arrived. She was dressed in a long, flowing gown of the current style in a light blue that paired pleasantly with her golden hair. It was fancifully adorned with embroidery and pearls, and she herself was adorned in several expensive bits of jewelry that boasted precious stones. She stood in the small clearing with her hands clasped before her and looked around anxiously.

A man I recognized as Merryhew arrived some minutes later, startling the woman who must have been Honora so that she gave a small gasp as she spun to face him. “Oh! It's you!”

”Were you expecting someone else?” Merryhew half teased, stepping closer to Honora.

”No, but I worried that someone else might come. What if we're caught?”

”Oh, I don't think anyone would mind.” The well-muscled captain pulled Honora to him with an arm about her waist, and her protests were forgotten as they kissed passionately. Feeling like a pervert, but unable to leave lest I give myself away, I stayed concealed in the bushes whilst he took her there against a tree. I considered escaping while they were absorbed in their ardour, but feared startling them. Nighteyes joined minds with me, curious about my anxiety. He appraised the situation with his wolf's logic.

_I would not recommend fighting him for her, brother. He is much stronger than you, and you have already chosen a fine mate._

_I wasn't planning to._ I responded glumly.

They departed without any hint of treason or suspicious words, and I left soon after. I took a modest supper from the kitchens and then met Nighteyes by the woods. We shared meat, while I ate the bread, and we both had a couple of Sara's ginger biscuits. Nighteyes rolled onto his back and wriggled happily. I petted him.

_We should hunt tonight. It has been long since we last hunted together._

I considered it and decided that I could not see Molly tonight without feeling ashamed for my earlier spying. I wanted to see her with a clear head.

_Alright. We'll hunt together._

Nighteyes made a happy yip and jumped on me, so I tussled with him on the ground, laughing. Why couldn't the rest of the world be as simple as pack and not pack, hunting, sleeping, and mating? My time spent with Nighteyes was easily my most carefree, and I knew that every time I returned to the keep, I would also be returning to secrets and hostility. My duty to the Farseer throne and my love for Molly would call me back eventually, but for the time being, I enjoyed the simplicity of a wolf's life.

When I reported to Chade that night, I appeared freshly bathed and bleary eyed. Nighteyes and I had taken three hares. Nighteyes and I would track them, I would startle the animal and Nighteyes would spring, pinning it and shaking it deftly to snap the neck. It was then left to me to carry the hare while we continued hunting for more prey. After the third, I told him that I could carry no more. Nighteyes was disappointed, but the meat waiting to be eaten cheered him. Skinning was left to me and Nighteyes watched, tongue lolling.

Your human hands are useful. He commented, nudging my hand with his nose. I scratched his ears obligingly and tossed him a freshly skinned hare. Nighteyes dove on it and growled playfully while he worried and shook it in a pretend battle. I made a small fire and cooked some of the meat for myself, hungry again after a small dinner. Nighteyes gorged himself happily and I left him to his treasure when I judged that it was late into the night. I washed the worst of the blood from myself in a stream so that I would be somewhat presentable, then stealthily made my way back into the castle and up to my bedchamber where I washed myself more thoroughly with a cloth and the water from my basin and changed my clothes.

I lay down on my bed and dozed for a time until Chade opened the passageway to his secret domain. I wondered not for the first time why there was a secret passage from my room to his and decided that it was simply how the castle was. After eating, Nighteyes had fallen into a deep sleep and I wished that I could do the same.

”Well?” Chade asked upon my entry in lieu of greeting, “What have you to report?”

”Nothing.” I grumbled, joining him at his work bench. He was sealing up packets of a herb I recognized to cause a horrid loosening of the bowels into waxed parchment pieces. I joined him, making note of the quantity that he was storing in each and doing my best to replicate it. Would a noble become sick before an important meeting? Would a servant become ill and need to be replaced? “They met to sate their lust and nothing more so far as I could tell.”

”You made sure that no notes or other objects were exchanged during their meeting?”

I blushed. “Yes.”

Chade chuckled at me and twisted a parchment packet shut. “Well, continue to keep an eye on them both. Search the girl's rooms. Listen carefully to the gossip of the keep. Learn more about this captain if you can, but also investigate others in positions of knowledge. The messengers too. If any are showing more enthusiasm than is normal for errands relating to the war, then take note.”

”Yes, Chade.”

Further spying on Merryhew yielded no interesting information. He was a strict captain with a disinclination toward mirth in general despite his name, and favoured the short sword as his weapon. I observed the practice from atop a low hill and took care to appear to take no interest in any particular individual or group. The Fool came up behind me, startling me as only he was able to.

”Are you considering a change in career, Fitzy?”

I looked up at him and then back to the practice courts, “No, just watching.”

The Fool took a seat beside me, grinning and looking proud of himself, “I would have thought that you'd seen quite enough of Merryhew recently.”

After a moment I turned and glared at him, “You did know that I was there!”

The Fool hummed and straightened the enormous bow at his throat like a bird preening, “So you admit to being there.”

My frown settled to a scowl, “I admit it only because you somehow detected my presence. Did you also know that Merryhew would be late?”

”I may have learned such a thing. It wouldn't have done to have you give up and miss your objective.” A smirk.

”For all the wonderful good it did. Was that your idea of revenge for spying on you?”

The Fool opened his mouth in a mock gasp, “You accuse me of something so petty as revenge? Why, Fitz, you wound me gravely!” He fell to the ground, clutching at his chest dramatically.

Fair was fair, I supposed, and there was no way that the Fool could have known that I'd gain no useful information. “I do accuse you of enjoying my discomfort. Though I thank you for your help.”

The Fool opened his eyes and blinked up at me. “Interesting. Perhaps I should arrange for you to be secret witness to other such encounters? Really, Fitz, I had no idea that you were so inclined, but if-”

”No!” I cut him off then lowered my voice, “I meant, you didn't want me to fail my mission, though it did come to nothing. I would have missed them or risked giving myself away if I'd stayed in the wrong spot. So, thank you.”

The Fool sat up and huffed, “You were more correct the first time.”

”Who was the girl you were with? Garetha.”

”You've just answered your own question.”

”I mean, is she a friend of yours? I didn't know that you had friends other than me. Usually you're alone or with King Shrewd.”

An owlish blink, “Are we friends, Fitz?”

”Well, yes. I rather thought so.”

The Fool looked away and out to the practice courts, “Hm. No.”

I frowned, “We aren't friends?”

”That was the answer to your question.”

”Oh. So you and Garetha aren't friends. Lovers then?” I hesitated to ask, but my curiosity overpowered my restraint.

The Fool gave me a dry look, “Really, Fitz?”

”You seemed quite familiar, and if you aren't friends then...”

”No, Fitz.”

”Oh.”

”King Shrewd has summoned you.”

”What? When?”

”Immediately before I departed his chambers to search you out. It was some time ago now, actually.”

”Why didn't you tell me right away?”

The Fool grinned at me mischievously, “You'd better hurry.”

Scowling at him darkly, I left the practice courts and set off at a dash back to the castle. I spared no time to make myself more presentable, but did straighten my hair before I approached the doors to King Shrewd's bedchamber.

What King Shrewd wanted of me, I would never know. I knocked at the door and it opened creakingly to reveal Wallace's face, contorted as though he'd just smelled something rank. Behind him, inside was all dark and foggy with smoke. “Bastard. The King is ill and is seeing no-one.”

”I was told that he'd summoned me.”

”Well, King Shrewd is currently resting, so you will have to come back later.”

I considered both Wallace and the door. With the muscles I'd gained from rowing on the Rurisk, it would be no great effort to force my way past him. Did Wallace know how many people I had killed? The thought sickened me soon after I had it. I could be proud that I'd served the Six Duchies in battle and in a way I could even be proud of the secret ways I served the King as an assassin, but killing was not something I rejoiced in. Something in my expression must have disturbed the would-be healer, because he shut the door in my face before I could retort properly.

Perhaps I could have knocked on the door, created a racket, and demanded entrance. I chose not to put in any more effort. I had not reported directly to King Shrewd since he'd made his position clear on my relationship with Molly and my being promised to Celerity. If he wished to speak with me, he should ensure that I was able to enter his presence.

Instead, I went to Verity. I Skilled my desire to report to him and he Skilled back to me his location. He was in the map room, and I made my way there, privately glad that he was not wasting away before the window in his tower. I rapped at the door and was admitted. The room smelled as it always did of inks, parchment, and Verity. His table was a mess as it always was, but he knew where everything was and often thoughts came so quickly that he could not spare the time to clean up after himself or to search for things that had been properly stored. I put up my walls.

Verity smiled tiredly but welcomingly at my entrance. “Fitz. Come and join me. A fresh pair of eyes may see something that I do not.”

I joined Verity at the table and looked at the parchments, maps, and markers that had been set out. He returned his attention to them, but voiced his thoughts aloud for my benefit.

”These marks indicate the locations where a raid has occurred. These were among the first, and since then the raiders have struck unpredictably. Here, here, here...” He gestured. “Our watch towers are here. Justin is as you know, on the Rurisk, Carrod is aboard the Constance, Burl and Will are each stationed at the watch towers: Neatbay and Red Tower respectively. We have five ships, including the one taken at the battle of Antler Island.” I followed along as he decoded the markers for me. “I establish patrols and the raiders evade them. I respond to a message and the men arrive too late for anything but building the funeral pyres. I am aware of your efforts to aid in my understanding of this dilemma.” He spared me a glance then returned his attention to the maps, “If you have any new insights I would be glad to hear them.”

Taking it as permission to report and to speak freely, I did, “Verity, I regret to report that I've learned nothing of use.” I studied the parchment before us, “Evading the patrols suggests inside knowledge, someone high ranking, but faulty messages suggests a messenger or a commander involved in the response. I am at the moment exploring all possibilities.”

Verity nodded and sighed, scrubbing a hand across his face and so creating a smudge of ink on his left cheek, “Forgive me for being impatient. I do know that these things take time. Still. I hoped for some solution.”

I considered, “Would there be anything to lose by altering the patrol routes?”

”There would be little loss,” Verity conceded, “But also little gained. We alter enough to remain unpredictable, and creating a larger change would require the cooperation of many. If the Raiders still evaded us we would not have narrowed the search down significantly.”

 _The one that looks like a calling bird._ Nighteyes interjected, sounding only half interested as he lounged somewhere in the grass.

_What?_

_It is where I would attack next. Your boats move like prey with the seasons._

I considered Cold Bay in Bearns on Verity's map. “Is it possible to station the Constance at Cold Bay instead? If there was an attack, Will could Skill to Carrod for help rather than waiting for men on horseback to be mobilized or for the watchtower's flame to be noticed.”

Verity shook his head, “Cold Bay has mountains to the north and is relatively narrow. There are patrol boats near Hook Island. In comparison, Neat Bay is a more likely target.”

”We could dispatch troops to Neat Bay's defense more swiftly, though.”

Verity looked askance at me, curious but also unused to being argued with, “Why the concern for Cold Bay, FitzChivalry?”

”The patrol.” I explained, “The ship covers from Gulls to Besham Island. At the far end of it's route, the Red Tower would be difficult to see, especially in a fog.”

Verity studied the map again. We debated for some time, but eventually he agreed to try the arrangement. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, “Few would dare to argue with the King-in-Waiting in his area of expertise. Truly you've inherited my brother's stubbornness.”

I lowered my eyes at the reminder of our difference in stations, “Forgive me, your royal highness. I am inexperienced. I did not intend to suggest fault with your plans.”

Verity studied me for long enough for me to comprehend my error and remember my place, then he sighed, “No, Fitz, forgive me. I asked for your opinion and then rebuked you for defending it. I will organize the necessary changes soon and see what becomes of it.” I could tell by his tone that he was not expecting much, but also that he did not blame me. The war had simply taken its toll on his optimism.

At last I recalled my reason for seeking Verity out. “King Shrewd summoned me today,” I said, “but Wallace would not grant me entry, saying that the King was resting.”

Verity nodded slowly, “My father's health has suffered. I have no reason to believe that Wallace would be lying. Strange though it may be, allowances must be made in light of the king's illness.”

I reserved my own opinion, knowing myself to be biased by my dislike for Wallace. I nodded, “I will await his next summons.”

It did not come that day, and that night I waited for the safety of darkness before seeking Molly in her chambers. She was displeased that I had not called upon her for some time. I defended myself by saying that I'd been busy. It did not please Molly, but she sighed and I saw a visible shift in her stance as she set the argument aside in her mind. It was our first night together in weeks and neither of us wanted to spoil it by arguing. I made sure my Skill walls were secure and that Nighteyes would keep his distance, then took Molly in my arms. She relaxed, her soft body melting against mine as she tilted her face up for a kiss. I did not deny my lady and there were no more words for a time.


	3. Side story time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of writing for someone became better than I expected! I decided to change it a bit and give it a home. You can skip to the end of this if you like and you won't miss anything monumental. I'll post a second chapter today to apologize for this detour. If you feel like it, please let me know what you thought.
> 
> PS: This is not huntswoman Laurel, I just really like that name.

“May I enter?”

Laurel turned and smiled, setting down her bucket of earthenware bowls and chipped crockery. “Caden! Do come in. I’ll boil water for tea.”

“Here, let me.” He took the kettle and ladled water into it from the barrel in the corner. He then hung it on the hook in the fireplace carefully.

Laurel watched, amused, “I am perfectly capable of making tea, Caden. Really you mustn’t fuss so, else I will become accustomed to your help and then what will I do when you’re not here?”

_Let me stay?_ He thought, privately. Aloud, he tutted over her bucket and began to put the dishes and bowls in their proper places. He had visited oft enough to know by now the organization that she preferred. Indeed it was nearly identical to her mother’s. “Yes, perfectly capable of making tea and apparently of washing all of your crockery again. You do realize that there will be more washing tomorrow? And the day after? There’s no need to wash what’s already clean.”

“I suppose I just wanted everything to be tidy. Oh, don’t put those there. Put them on the higher shelf please. What if he pulls one down from the shelf and cuts himself?”

Caden raised his brows but followed her orders, putting the mugs on the highest shelf. “The shelf is five feet above the ground, my dear. I expect you’ll have several years before you must worry about that.”

“Yes, but I’d best get used to it now, or what if I forget to move them later?”

Steam was rising from the mouth of the kettle. Laurel took up the hook and made to pull the kettle from the flames, but Caden was there, taking it from her and setting the kettle on the hearth. Laurel huffed at him. Caden scowled and turned to take down a jar of tea herbs. Abruptly he was startled by the warm press of Laurel’s swollen stomach against his back and her arms around his chest. 

“Don’t be cross, Caden. I appreciate all of your help, really.”

“I know.” Caden allowed himself a moment to savour the contact before he gently removed himself from her embrace and firmly guided her to a chair. “I just wish that you’d let me help a bit more and stop taking so much upon yourself. The midwife was clear in that you must not exert yourself.”

A sparing pinch of herbs into the kettle. Caden made a note to bring Laurel more tea herbs as a gift. Caden took a seat in the chair opposite. Laurel ran her hands up and down the mound of her belly. She glanced at Caden but did not startle when a large hand joined hers. The warmth of him felt good and safe. Caden’s hands were familiar, weathered brown and littered with many small scars from his work. 

Caden considered the woman before him. He’d taught Laurel to tie snares to catch rabbits, and he brought fish and eggs when he was able. Laurel had tended her small garden, sewed quilts, and did mending to earn a few coins, but she was thin of cheek and not as soft as he thought she should be. In the early days of her pregnancy she’d done washing and cleaning for other families as well, to make ends meet, but few had the means to pay for her services and the work was strenuous. He forbade her from continuing when she’d fainted, despite her protests. He’d been terrified then, and he resolved that he would take over the care of both her and her unborn child.

“The tea should be ready by now.” She reminded him gently.

“Yes.”

Caden rose and poured the tea. Snares and eggs were all well and good, but as he considered the chipped mug and the weak tea, he wished that he could do more.

—

“I must go, don’t you see?”

“No, I do not see, Caden!” Tears brimmed in her angry eyes, “Why should you go to fight when there are other able bodied men to go? What if something were to happen to you? I could not bear it if you were killed. I could not!”

“Already it is autumn. Spring and summer are when the raiders prefer to strike. There is little risk of me doing anything more than patrol.” Caden stepped closer to Laurel and stroked her hair fondly, “The king-in-waiting pays good money for men to man his warships.”

“I do not care about money. We are doing just fine! I need you here, Caden.”

“Take care of yourself. I will be gone two weeks at most, I swear it.”

—

One week turned into two and then three. Caden found each day to be more miserable than the last. Every day he was wet, and two ships they had fended off from the coast. The second had not been a clean victory. Hooks had flown from the enemy vessel and ropes bound the two ships together in a deadly embrace. The El's Wrath and been boarded and Caden had feared for his life with an intensity he’d never before experienced. The fear he channeled into a desperate energy as he cut and stabbed one enemy and then the next. There seemed no end to them, until somehow the tide had turned. The enemy vessel was boarded and in desperation, they slung burning, oiled rags onto the deck of the El's Wrath and began cutting the lines to free their ship. The fires were quelled, the captain of the enemy ship was beheaded, and the ship was captured. The diminished crew spread between the two vessels to get both safely back to shore. They had lost many men. Caden lay on his bunk and shook. What if death had claimed him? What of Laurel and her baby? What of all of his plans and dreams for the future?

He wondered if this is what his own father had thought those years ago when his ship was sunk. Even before the war, raids by the Outislanders had not been uncommon. His mother had been much changed after the news was brought that no survivors had been found. Weeks she had spent listless in bed, leaving he and his brother to tend their small sister as well as themselves. When she at last roused herself from her grief, she’d been angry. Baldric had been old enough to travel and work the fields of farmers miles inland, but Caden had not been. He spend many evenings with Laurel at her mother’s hearth to take refuge from her anger, bringing little Bella with him. She delighted in playing with scraps of fabric and yarn from Laurel’s mother’s basket, and Laurel’s mother had fashioned her a little doll that she adored. So he and Laurel had come to grow up together and mourn together when an attack on their village had killed Bella, Laurel’s mother and father, and his own mother as well. She had been found slumped in their cottage, her throat slit. Caden did not think she’d put up much of a fight.

When they docked at last at Green Cove, Caden would take his pay and go. He’d had enough of sailoring.

—

Caden returned to Laurel with a purse of silver and several new scars. She welcomed him with tears and a fierce hug. 

“I thought you’d died. I thought I would never see you again,” she cried. 

“I’ll never leave you again,” he promised.

Laurel kissed him fiercely, full of anger at him for leaving and joy at his return.

—

Caden enjoyed watching Laurel. Her gravid form should have been ungainly, but she managed to move with grace as she ponderously lowered herself to pick up a dropped item or as she bustled around the kitchen. Food was not as scarce as it had been, and Caden was secretly glad he’d fought aboard the El's Wrath, though he promised himself he would never do so again. They were wed so that her child, though a raider’s by blood, would be born in wedlock and so that they could call one another husband and wife. Happiness was theirs.

—

Laurel’s birth pains began before sunrise, easily ignored at first, but by supper time she had to stand still and breathe until they passed and by sunset she was moaning on their bed, sweat shining on her brow and her skirts bunched around her hips.

“I’m going to fetch the midwife. Surely there’s not long now.”

“No. Please, Caden. Don’t leave. Please.”

“I have to, you cannot do this alone. I know nothing of women’s matters.”

“It can’t be that different from a horse or a dog!” She protested angrily. “I’m scared. I don’t want anyone else!”

Caden would not bend this time. He kissed his wife, donned his cloak, and was out the door. Laurel lay there, judging time only by the pains that took her. She startled when the door burst open again. Caden hurried to her side and was pulling her up before she could form the question. He answered her anyway.

“Raiders. We have to go.”

“But there was no alarm!” Laurel protested.

“The watchtower is not lit.” Caden agreed, “Nevertheless, I saw the red hulls of their ships as I ran for the midwife. We have to go.”

“We must warn the others.”

“Let me get you safe. Then I will go back and warn them if they do not already know. I will not risk you.”

The two fled, hearts pounding, into the night. Caden led his panting wife up a steep trail as quickly as she was able. They passed houses shut tightly for the night and Caden vowed to come back to warn them. Reluctantly he ushered Laurel into the shelter of a copse of trees when, in a strained voice, she begged to stop. Her face was pale in the moonlight and her eyes were wide with fear. She clutched Caden’s sleeve and kissed him desperately when her pain had lessened. The two continued their flight.

When Laurel could go no further, Caden hid her away in the underbrush and petted her hair while she muffled a whimper behind her hand. 

“Be as quiet as you can, my love.” Caden instructed her, “You must try not to make a sound. I must warn the others and then I will return for you.”

“I love you.” Laurel whispered.

“I love you too.”

Caden disappeared into the darkness and Laurel was as silent as she could manage, alternately wishing she had not suggested warning the others, because she wanted Caden at her side, then hating the selfishness of that thought. She took off her skirts so that she would have something clean to wrap the babe in and put her petticoat beneath herself. 

Time passed. The alarm sounded in the village. Distant shouting could be heard.

—

Caden ran down the hill in darkness wondering whether the raiders had already come ashore and wondering too why the watchtower had not been lit. Perhaps message of the attack had already been sent by Skill. He knew little of how the magic worked, but if so, lack of a signal fire could be a strategy to fool the raiders into thinking that they went undetected. He hoped that an ambush had already been prepared. Nevertheless, he knocked on doors and spread the word that raiders had come again. 

As he came closer to the village itself, Caden halted halfway down the path he’d taken with Laurel not long ago. He backed into the trees and observed. Smoke was rising from several locations and screams could be heard. 

—

The raiders killed with efficiency and they destroyed without thought for what could be plundered. Homes, boats, and warehouses were set alight. The smell of smoke was now heavy in the air, as was the stench of blood. Caden knew not what force propelled him to the tower. Laurel was waiting for him, perhaps with their child already. Still, he could not ignore the compulsion to climb the tower and light the fire and so he ran on, stealthily as he could, toward the coast and his goal. 

A raider saw him and came at him with a sword. An ugly man with one eye and a necklace of teeth around his throat. Caden took a piece of firewood from the stack of a nearby home and raised it in his defence. With a ferocity he did not know he possessed, he knocked the blade aside, kicked his assailant, and swiftly used the cudgel to smash the raider’s head. He stole his enemy’s sword and ran on, heart pounding in his ears.

—

Laurel crawled a little further into the copse of trees and huddled there, taking short, rapid breaths through her nose. Her child wanted to be born. Unable to fight her body’s urging any longer, she bore down and did her best not to cry out. Not far from her hiding place, she could hear the clash of metal on metal and the angry shouts of men doing battle.

—

Two more raiders found Caden. He looked up at the tower and back at the raiders then raised his sword. He could not outrun them. He got his back to the tower and took his stance. A fierce looking raider with a bear’s face tattooed on his own slashed at him and he raised his sword to block it, but was forced to his knees by the impact. The second raider aimed a kick at his ribs. The first stabbed his blade downward and Caden barely rolled out of the way. He lifted his sword again. The raiders laughed. 

—

Laurel’s babe was born. He gave a choking cry and Laurel wiped clear the infant’s mouth and nose before bundling him in her skirts. She held him to her breast and hoped he would quiet. 

—

The two raiders were dead. Caden panted and swayed on his feet, clutching a wound on his side and blinking stars from his eyes. He dropped his sword. With effort he began to pull himself up the ladder. Each rung was a special torment and once he paused and hung his head, feeling as though he might either faint or be sick. What of Laurel and their child? He had to get back to them. Caden continued to climb the ladder. An arrow struck him in the back and he screamed. Still he clung and eventually gained the top.

—

Once the afterbirth had passed, Laurel tied the babe’s cord with a strip of cloth from her petticoat and waited for the blood to stop. She cut the cord with her belt knife and panted, tears of exhaustion and fear making tracks down her cheeks. She should flee, but what if Caden returned and could not find her? What if she fled and gave herself away? But what if the raiders found her and what if Caden did not come? Paralyzed by fear, she stayed huddled in the darkness.

—

Caden knew a moment of great despair when he realized that he had brought nothing with which to start the fire. Then his eyes fell upon the supplies that were stored for such an occasion. With a shuffling, stumbling gate he picked up flint and kindling. After several attempts, the fire was lit and burned well. Caden stared at it. It was done. He’d saved them. His eyes shut and his body slumped to the floor of the tower.

—

I blinked my eyes open and sat up in the darkness of my bedchamber and for a time did not know where I was. My heart was pounding. I could smell the smoke and feel the heat of the fires. My stomach lurched and I sprang from bed to be sick. With trembling hands, I braced myself against the wall. Verity. I had to tell Verity.

I ran down the corridors, heedless of who might see me in my nightclothes and disheveled state. If anyone saw me I did not notice them, but they must have thought me a madman or else possessed. I banged my fists upon Verity’s chamber door, not realizing that to have Skilled to him would have been quicker. A haggard Verity opened the door. Behind him I could see that candles had been lit. I stammered my news.

“I know.” He said, and the look in his eyes told me all that I needed to know.

“You used the Skill. To make him light the tower.”

“I did. Reinforcements should arrive soon. I’ve already sent a message to dispatch more men for clean up and to help the wounded.”

“Why was the watchman not at his post?”

“That I do not know.”

My news delivered, I leaned back against the wall of the corridor, heart still pounding, and clenched my hands into fists to still their trembling. Verity gave me a sad nod, then turned and went back into his chambers. Before the door shut, I saw Kettricken emerge from their bedchamber into the sitting room, her golden hair spilling down her back. I doubted that sleep would find any of us again that night.


	4. In a dream

Reinforcements had arrived at Green Cove. I heard the news two days later that the raiders had been repelled and the fires quenched, but not without heavy losses. No woman or newborn was found matching the description that Verity had provided. They had either fled or been destroyed beyond recognition by fire or by blade. Caden's corpse was found where he'd fallen in the watchtower. The survivors that remained counted it as a victory, since no-one had been taken and forged, but there were no celebrations. Verity sent men and money to aid the repairs, and what supplies we could spare to feed and clothe the survivors. It was the autumn of the third year of the Red Ship war, and the supplies we could spare were little but appreciated.

Several of Chade's men had accompanied the men that came to Green Cove's aid. They reported back that the watchman who should have manned the tower that night had been found with his throat slit at the base of the tower, broken and splayed as though his body had been thrown from it.

Chade was frustrated. He paced around his workroom snarling and growling under his breath. I sat and watched him from my place on the hearth stones, Slink perched on my shoulder and burrowing his head into my hair for some reason. I gently removed him and set him on the ground, but he crawled up my shirt again.

”Dead before the ships arrived or killed before he could notice them?” Chade demanded of the air, “His throat was surely slit while he was atop the tower, but when? Oh, if only I could see the body!” He lamented, throwing himself into his chair and taking up a glass of watered wine. “Did he know his killer or was he surprised? Too many questions, Fitz!”

”He could have simply dozed off.” I ventured, “And then been taken by surprise.”

”Yes, but we will never know unless I can extract a more detailed report from my man! If he did not struggle, it is also possible that he had been drugged before hand and slept through his execution, in which case we have conspirators to contend with as well as raiders.”

Too many questions indeed. It was Chade's habit to consider every possibility, no matter how far fetched, and then find the practical way to investigate from there. Unfortunately, the early stages of that process were frustrating for us both. I sighed and extracted Slink from my hair again. He seemed to think that my warrior's tail was a toy, or else perhaps a creature to be battled. “But who in the Six Duchies would side with the Outislanders? And what would they gain? The raiders kill indiscriminately. I still say it's more likely that he fell asleep,” I argued.

”Men are easily blackmailed with the safety of their families. Many would be gullible and desperate enough to believe it. But if there had been time to form a bargain, how was that message delivered and why would they not report it so that we could ambush the raiders?”

I said nothing. It was not helpful, but the less input I gave him, the less time we would spend getting nowhere. I was tired and getting annoyed.

Eventually, Chade's ranting wore down. He sighed, “If we work from the simplest explanation, which you so kindly pointed out several times, the fact remains that the Red Ships exactly evaded our patrols. We must find the source of their knowledge, eliminate it, and then change the patrols. In the mean time, I will speak to Verity about moving our land troops on a schedule that compensates for the bare patches in our patrols. They will not be pleased about it, but they will follow orders and we pay them well enough.”

I departed, my duty as a body to talk to completed.

The next day I arose, wishing that I had more time to sleep, and brought a tray to Verity who sat in his tower. The sky was grey with clouds and a cool wind blew through the windows, but Verity seemed not to notice. I set his tray down and then regarded the man who would be king. My father's younger brother. If I had not been born, Chivalry would have kept his throne. The two could have combined their Skill and their wits to defend the Six Duchies. Instead, Verity was left to bear the burden alone. His efforts had taxed him and the long summer had rendered him a shadow of the man he'd once been. He was meant to be outdoors with his horse and his hounds.

Dark eyes turned in my direction. _I take this burden on myself. Do not take blame that is not yours. Is it a child's fault that he is born?_

_My prince, I wish that I could help you._

”You help me more than you know, FitzChivalry.” Verity spoke aloud, “It seems that you are the only one to whom I can speak freely.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward and he rose from his chair to come to the table. “I remember when you were just a boy. Just this high. Playing with my old toys on the floor of the Great Hall.” He held his hand at about waist level. “And here I am treating you as my confidante.”

”It is an honour, Verity. And I am not a boy any longer.”

His expression turned a bit sad. “No, you aren't, are you?” Verity gave my hair an affectionate tussle and took his seat. “What have you for me today?”

I could tell that Verity attempted to mimic good cheer, but his words lacked energy and his eyes were much shadowed from lack of sleep. I played along. It was rare that Verity had the strength or will for even that much. “Cook Sara's finest for you, my prince.” I uncovered the dishes. The meal there seemed hardly enough for a child. Some fruit, a bit of porridge, and some sausage. I poured him tea and made note of the fragrance. It was the same brew that the Fool had brought some days ago. Verity seemed not to be harmed by it, and I mentioned nothing to Chade. I wondered briefly whether my trust was misplaced, but dismissed my paranoia. The Fool was as loyal a creature to King Shrewd as any hound.

Verity sipped the tea then took up a spoon for his porridge. “Have you anything to report?”

I straightened, “Where shall I begin, your highness?”

”From the end of your last report.”

So I reported to Verity. I knew not what Chade had told him, so I shared our thoughts. I described my Skill dream and I told him what I knew of the watchman. I shared also my disappointing lack of results. It was not a long report, but neither was it brief, for I had been trained by Chade to spare no detail. Verity was attentive near the beginning and surprised me by eating well, but towards the end of my speech, I saw his glance drift toward the window and his cutlery was eventually abandoned. When I finished, silence stretched for a few moments.

I cleared my throat, “That concludes my report.”

Verity blinked and looked at me, “Yes. Thank you, FitzChivalry.” He rose and returned to his chair by the window. “You are strong in the Skill magic. I should find time to practice with you again. Perhaps tomorrow.

I gathered the dishes and carried the tray down to the kitchens. The conversation had left me with mixed emotions. I was proud that Verity saw me as someone he could confide in, sad that he toiled so hard while the people of the Six Duchies did not seem to appreciate it, and worried at how the Skill seemed to pull at him.

Cook gave me my breakfast and tutted at the remains of Verity's meal. “I suppose it's no surprise the man's appetite has gone, what with him all day up in his tower. He's done nothing to build up a hunger.”

I frowned, stressing Verity's title, “King-in-Waiting Verity is day and night thwarting raiders with his Skill and planning our defenses.”

Cook Sara gave me a condescending pat on the shoulder, “You're a good lad, FitzChivalry. I don't mean no disrespect to our King-in-Waiting, but with his father the King so very ill, it only seems proper that he would shoulder some of the tasks that have fallen to Prince Regal.”

I did my best to swallow my anger, “Prince Regal?” I asked in what I hoped was a pleasantly curious tone.

”Settling disputes, managing the finances, organizing the Winterfest activities. Prince Regal has been making his presence well known in the keep these days!”

”Surely some of that must be the duty of Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken,” I protested.

”Mountain-borne as she is, I expect she still knows little of how we in the Six Duchies do things, through no fault of her own, mind.” Cook Sara looked at me from under her eyebrows meaningfully. I nodded, acknowledging that she had not been disrespectful.

There was a small rush of murmurs from the kitchen staff behind me and I turned to watch as the Fool entered the kitchen, balancing a tray on his head, a cup on one palm, and a plate atop the end of his sceptre. He wore a red and green motley and had painted his face to match. With yellow paint, he'd added a series of curlicues and circles that were abstract, but not unpleasant. His colourless eyes stood out alarmingly, though.

”Woe! Woe!” He cried out, throwing his arms out and sending the plate flying into the air for a kitchen girl to catch. “Woe and death to any who enter Sir Wall-ass's chambers! For the stench he emits is surely enough to kill a man when confined in such small quarters! How he himself has not perished can only be guessed at! And now he has spread his odours to the King's quarters as well! Alas! I could bear it no longer!” A few of the maids giggled, though all kept their distance and did their best to continue their tasks while still keeping an eye on the activity.

The Fool's gaze fell on me and he pointed Ratsy at me. “Ho there, young Fitz! There is just the man who could enter where no other would dare! For who else could stand the horrific scents that follow in Wall-ass's wake? Only he who has become immune through his amorous attentions to the late Lady Thyme! He who braved the worst of olfactory offenses for love can surely withstand again for affection for his King!”

I stared, dumb, heat rushing to my cheeks as the Fool bowed low to me, deftly catching the tray that fell from atop his multicoloured hat. “O most brave of bastards with the most stalwart of snouts! Will you not do a Fool this favour and bear this-” He snatched up a new tray that had been waiting on a counter, “up to King Shrewd's quarters?”

I spluttered, “Why can you not do it?”

The Fool assumed a haughtily offended expression, “I? My business is my own!” Then he thrust the tray into my hands, turned on his heel, and left. Cook Sara gave me a pitying look while a few of the girls tittered.

I delivered the tray up to King Shrewd's chambers fuming, my ears still burning with humiliation. People had just begun to forget the vicious rumours the Fool had started about myself and Lady Thyme. Wallace was at the door as usual and greeted me with an unfriendly, “Bastard. What do you want?” I gave the tray over to him and left, my duty done. I thought briefly of my last visit to King Shrewd. He had given me Celerity's letter and made it clear that he expected me to court her in the future. For what? A title and land, but without love or happiness? And then he had fallen asleep. Worried as I was, my frustration was greater.

Still angry, I worked off some of that energy at the practice courts. My opponent eventually stepped back and held up his hands for pause, wide-eyed. I abused my sword as though it were an axe and my partner as though he were an actual enemy. Sighing, I went to the steams then back to my chambers to change my clothes. I numbered tasks to myself in my head. I could see Lady Patience. I could speak to Kettricken about how Regal had taken the duties that should have been hers. I could spy for Chade. Kettricken first, I decided, for Regal's attitude irritated me.

I found Kettricken in her tower-top garden, but she was not alone. To my surprise, the Fool was with her. The two were engaged in a quiet conversation, sitting on the ground beside one of the planters of flowers. I could not hear their words. Were he anyone other than the Fool, I would have been mildly scandalized that the Queen-in-Waiting was alone with him unchaperoned. As it was, I was curious. I stood in the shadows and observed them. Kettricken looked to be at ease, and her expression spoke of interest. The Fool passed her two old scrolls, handling them delicately. I frowned. The Queen unrolled the first with as much care and frowned over it. The Fool reached over a pale hand and pointed, explaining something. The queen nodded slowly. The Fool began a more animated explanation with much gesticulating, but still his words were carried away from me by the wind.

I shut the door and retreated down the stairs. I returned to my chamber and went immediately to the small chest that contained the scrolls and parchments that Verity had entrusted to me and that had so interested the Fool. They were still arranged in the groups he'd put them in. I took them out and counted them. Then I counted them again.

Two were missing.

I was baffled and offended. Why had the Fool taken the scrolls, why had he given them to Kettricken, and why had he not told me first? My annoyance grew. If Verity asked me for them back, could I admit to him that I had let the Fool read them and that he'd taken two to give to Kettricken? The thought made me ashamed. And the Fool had broken into my chamber yet again. I would confront him about it later.

Kettricken was alone the next time I found her. She was still in her garden, arranging rocks into an elegant pattern. The sunlight turned her yellow hair to gold. She seemed so pale in the dark halls of the castle. Outside among the flowers she seemed radiant with life, and my heart skipped a beat. I blushed and shook my head to clear it. These were Verity's feelings, not mine. A memory of his admiration left in my mind by our Skilling. The Queen-in-Waiting was beautiful, but she was not mine and neither was that admiration.

”My queen.” I greeted her, stepping closer to make my presence known.

”FitzChivalry!” She smiled. I fought to keep another blush from rising. “Please, no more of this 'my queen'. We are friends and need not be so formal.”

I joined her. “Kettricken,” I amended. 

We talked some time of simple things. I did not ask her about the scrolls. Of the duties that Regal had taken over, I thought that settling the people's disputes suited her the best and was most in keeping with her mountain upbringing.

”Instead of games and stories, I wondered if you might like to learn more about the workings of government here in the Six Duchies.” I proposed, “It is a judgement day and the people bring their disputes and grievances before the King for him to settle. Since King Shrewd is ill, the duty should have fallen to King-in-Waiting Verity. It seems as though Prince Regal has taken it on.”

Kettricken frowned, “But what of me? Surely instead of spending my time arranging my garden or learning your Six Duchies style of embroidery, I should be doing something to help our people.”

I smiled, “I think so too, and I thought that it would please you to begin learning the duties a Sacrifice performs here.”

Kettricken's interest was captured, “Oh, it would please me very much. Every day I spend in idle amusement while my people suffer.” Her expression turned sorrowful, “It pains me, FitzChivalry. Yet each time I speak with my Lord husband he does not seem to hear me at all. You do not think me foolish, do you?”

I shook my head, “Not at all, Kettricken. Come. I'll show you to the judgment hall.”

Kettricken and I stood in audience as the line of citizens proceeded into the hall. Regal sat proudly upon the central throne and I bit back a snarl that threatened to appear to see him there. His hair was neatly arranged in oiled curls and he had decorated himself extravagantly in lace and jewels. I thought that I would be ashamed to be seen thus before the ragged people who were paraded in. Rows of guards stood in the shadows along the walls.

The people's requests and grievances were brought forward. Some were simple enough, and Regal seemed bored as he listened to quarrels over water rights at a stream between two properties. He gave little thought when he declared that the man whose chickens were killed or frightened off by Forged ones should have had a guard dog or a sturdier chicken coop. No aid was granted. Village representatives came asking for lower taxes which were denied. The inheritance of a large farm was disputed and the matter was complicated by many deaths of sons and brothers in the war. Beggars and thieves were becoming a problem in several villages, but we had not the guards to spare “as they are occupied with King-in-Waiting Verity's defenses of our ravaged coasts.” I watched through the corner of my eye as Kettricken's ire grew.

When we left, I promised Kettricken that I would speak to Verity, asking that she be allowed to give judgment, with the reasoning that she had already been trained in such matters in the Mountains and that she strongly desired to help.

Verity grudgingly allowed it, and I privately felt that he underestimated her, but kept that thought to myself. As I observed the frown on his face and the almost resentful way he glanced at the window, a new thought occurred to me.

”Sir?”

Verity exhaled roughly: a sigh of impatience. “Speak, Fitz.”

”Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken is capable, sir, and it reflects well upon you. She is an extension of you, and so where her presence is known, so is yours.”

”An extension of me... What sort of King will I make if I forever lay my responsibilities on my Queen's shoulders?”

”Better on hers than on Prince Regal's, sir.”

Verity's next sigh was more of weariness. “She is young and strong. I do not doubt that she will do well at the task, or any other duty of mine she decides to take on. Tell her that for me.”

”If I may be so bold as to suggest, you might try telling her yourself. If you were to be seen more in each other's company, it would strengthen the knowledge that she is the half of you that is able to be out among the people. Train her well, make it clear that she is yours, and the people will accept it.” Chade would have been proud of me, I thought, already serving the future King as he served King Shrewd. I wondered how much his teaching had affected my thinking.

King-in-Waiting Verity turned his gaze back to me. His next words surprised me. “You are your father's son, no doubt. Very well. I will tell her myself.”

Morning and afternoon gone, I took my supper in the Great Hall. The crest on my breast permitted me a place there, and the red line stitched through it ensured that that place would be with the lesser nobility. Neither King Shrewd nor King-in-Waiting Verity made an appearance, but this was no longer a surprise. Regal and his sycophants were forced to share the high dais only with Kettricken and her favoured ladies.

Listening to the gossip there yielded me little. It seemed as though the people of the court were not so concerned with Forged ones or raids as they were with who would wear what to the next ball and who was courting whom. I would have had more luck in the men-at-arms room. Night could not come soon enough as, my attention drifting, I thought of Molly.

When at last I could sneak up to her chambers, I did so eagerly. Perhaps what we did was unwise, but I refused to believe that the kindest thing would be to let her go. I loved Molly and I would do everything in my power to keep her. She let me in with a smile and a kiss. I shut and latched the door behind me. “I missed you.”

”I missed you too, Newboy.” She said nothing of wishes that we could be together by day. Nothing of how she longed for us to run away together. She was not resigned, but determined to think only of the present.

The omission sent a jolt of sadness through me and I kissed her again, taking her hand with mine and stroking it with my thumb. “I love you, Molly. I promise you that one day we shall be wed in fact. Verity has said that he will allow it when he is king.”

Molly sighed. My words had somehow displeased her. “And when you are _allowed_ to wed me, FitzChivalry, what then? Will you leave Buckkeep with me?”

I hesitated.

Molly frowned at me, “No, you won't, will you? I will not be a servant here my whole life.”

”I wish that I could leave with you this second, Molly, but my duty is here. You would not need to be a servant. You would be my wife. You would be a lady of this court.”

”And sit and embroider and gossip all day?”

It was my turn to sigh. Such a life would not suit Molly. Such a life did not suit me either. Thinking of all of the secrets that I would be keeping from her. “My father and Lady Patience lived in Withywoods. I could ask that we go there. The war will not last forever. King-in-Waiting Verity will release me from my duties here.” Would Chade? I would simply refuse to continue in his trade. Let him find another apprentice. _He is getting old._ my conscience reminded me. Chade had practically raised me. I hardened my resolve. If Chade cared for me at all, he would not force me into the life of an assassin.

Molly shook her head sadly. “Let us not speak of these things. Let us enjoy what we have.”

I longed to destroy her doubts. I wanted to make her believe that I would do everything I could to build a happy life for us. A look at the set of her face and her posture told me that I could not. I kissed her again. “Very well.”

Molly smiled at me, “I heard that the King's Fool caused quite a scene in the kitchens this morning.”

I groaned, “Does the whole keep know?”

”Very nearly,” Molly confirmed. “I learned much about your last lover, Lady Thyme, from the girls in the washing courts.” Her smile turned wicked as she teased me.

”Molly,” I begged, “Please not you too.”

She laughed and pulled me to the bed. I went willingly. We sat side by side, and she played with the collar of my shirt. “Oh don't be so embarrassed, Newboy. The Fool is an awful creature; no-one really believes it.”

”I should hope not.” I paused. “Have you met the Fool?” Was Molly yet another person that the Fool was secretly acquainting himself with?

Molly shook her head and I felt relieved, though I knew not why. “No, I've only seen him at a distance and heard a few tales. He frightens me, though.”

”There's no need to be frightened. He is odd, yes, but harmless enough.”

”It is said to be bad luck if he singles you out.”

”Is that what people say?”

”It is. Lucky for you, I think I know of a way to dispel it.”

I thought no more of the Fool, but I did see him that night. I watched, bleary eyed and half asleep, as the Fool swept and dusted the large, darkened room. I wondered with no great energy why he was doing these things at night, and why he was in Molly's bedchamber. He next gathered up the smoke censers and emptied them of ashes. Boldly, he extinguished the one that still gave off a thin tendril of smoke. Laundry was gathered. At last I recalled that I should be angry with him for entering uninvited yet again.

”Fool. Why are you here?” My voice came to me slowly, and it sounded low and rough to my ears.

The Fool looked up and immediately set aside his burden to come to my side. “Only cleaning, my Lord, before Wall's Ass can surround you with his filth. Get some rest.” Kindly, he rearranged the covers more comfortably around me. I shut my eyes.

When I opened them again, the room seemed sharper than it had. The Fool was asleep at the foot of my bed like a true hound, and Chade was there.

”Chade.” I greeted, still hoarse, “Report.” The Fool opened his colourless eyes at the sound of my voice and looked first at me and then at Chade. He sat up, crossed his legs, and looked at Chade as expectantly as though he'd been the one to give the command.

Chade gave the Fool a narrow eyed glance. The Fool sighed dramatically and slid off of the bed. He did not depart, but instead sprawled, childlike, on the hearth.

”Newboy. Newboy? ... FitzChivalry!” Molly shook my shoulder.

I opened my eyes, myself again, and blinked at her. She looked beautiful. “Molly. What is it? What's wrong?”

”You should return to your chambers now.” She kissed me, “Dawn is not far off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you like to see less plot and more moments between Fitz and the Fool? Let me know what I can do to improve this!


	5. Through Verity

It was full autumn. The leaves were a peaceful array of yellows, oranges, and reds. The air was beginning to cool, but not enough to be unpleasant, and the insects that plagued man and beast alike during the summer months were less. The Rurisk sailed again, but I was not aboard. My other life had called me back. Instead of pulling an oar, I spent the morning quietly killing Forged ones that had come close to Buckkeep town. There were four of them and I left them fighting over poisoned bread. Some of Chade's discreet men would come to dispose of the bodies after sufficient time had passed for them to have been killed. I found two more by accident while I rode back through the woods. They were eating the rotting remains of a deer. These I slew with my sword, suffering only several scratches. There was no glory in fighting unarmed men, and our own citizens at that. The wrongness of the Forged Oneses' existence sickened me. The ugliness of my task made it that much worse. 

_It is not a good way to kill._ Nighteyes agreed.

He was trotting along with me, like a shadow in the underbrush, ready to step in should I need his aid. He made Sooty nervous, but I was able to keep her calm.

When I returned to the keep and brought Sooty to the stables, Regal was there, preparing to ride with his entourage. None of them were dressed for riding and I allowed myself an internal scoff at how ridiculous they looked.

Regal sneered at me as I dismounted. “Bastard. Out looking for somewhere where you'll actually be wanted? No luck, I see, since you've come crawling back.”

Someone in his retinue sought to gain favour by adding, “Look at what he's wearing. He looks like some sort of savage.” The group laughed approvingly.

I bit back my anger and forced myself to respond in as polite a tone as I could muster, “No doubt you'll be back soon too, Prince Regal.” I paused just long enough for my words to be perceived as insult then added, “The weather looks as though it will soon turn foul.”

Regal's lip curled upward, “You would be sleeping in it or dead were it not for my father's largesse. Your own father chose to abdicate the throne rather than look at you.”

A stable boy, curious, came to take Sooty into the stable and listen to the conversation as he did so.

”And every day I am grateful to King Shrewd, to whom I've sworn my loyalty.” I replied, flatly. In the woods where we'd parted ways, Nighteyes growled. “Good day, Prince Regal.” I dismissed myself, turning away and heading back to the castle.

I went first to my chamber, where I took off my leathers and my sword and also stowed the tiny blades and packets of poison that I had not required. I paused briefly to watch through Nighteyes's eyes as he stalked Regal's company. With glee, he followed close enough that the scent of wolf made the horses restless. Regal irritatedly tightened his hold on the reins.

 _Be careful,_ I warned him, _If word gets out that a wolf is in the woods outside the keep, there will be a hunt._

 _Them hunt me?_ Nighteyes scoffed, _Look at them._

_Not them. Real hunters._

_I_ am _a real hunter._ With a bound, Nighteyes darted out in front of Regal's horse, narrowly avoiding its hooves and startling the poor creature so that it reared and snorted in alarm. Nighteyes passed like a grey blur and I felt his merriment and satisfaction through our witbond.

I smiled to myself and wondered briefly if this was why the Wit had a bad reputation. Few humans were above small acts of vengeance. It was not that the Wit made humans more like beasts. Beasts, in my opinion, were nobler than humans by far. Instead, it was that we gave to our wit partners our human vices and what traits we took from them were twisted by our humanness. My smile turned wry as I thought that people without the Wit were more afraid of human nature than of the magic. What would Burrich say if I told him that, I wondered.

Leaving Nighteyes to his fun, I washed my face and hands in my wash basin and tried to make my hair presentable. After a thought, I changed my shirt as well. It was not that the nobleman's comments had stung me, I argued to myself. I was simply setting that part of the day behind me with a fresh start. I had promised Molly that I would visit her that night, and I chose to look forward to that rather than back on my own unhappiness.

Satisfied, I Skilled out to Verity. It is difficult to put what Skilling is like into words, but I can best describe the feeling of his mind as the smell of ink, hearty laughter, warmth, and adventure. Even that does not do it justice. It was my idea of Verity, formed all through my years at Buckkeep. It was coloured with my knowledge of his insecurities, his admiration and jealousy of Kettricken, his sense of duty, his love of the outdoors, and what his favourite pastries were. With all the time we had spent Skill-linked, his mind had become very familiar to me. I wondered how Verity saw me through the Skill.

 _A boy still._ Verity confessed, _Very like my older brother at that age. Full of energy. You feel your emotions very intensely. When we connect more deeply, sometimes I can sense something different. It is a part of you but foreign._

That information worried me. I recalled how Burrich had taken his affection from me once, when I had abandoned Galen's Skill test to come to his side after seeing him attacked through Smithy's eyes. Would Verity despise me if he discovered Nighteyes? I sensed Verity withdraw slightly, silently respecting my need for secrecy. I felt a rush of shame for my doubt, and love for Verity.

 _You reached for me. Have you anything to report?_ He asked, back to business.

I shared with him my memories of the morning, careful to omit the parts containing Nighteyes. My fear was stronger than my shame. Verity sighed in his study. There seemed to be no end to the Forged ones, and no answer as to why they were converging on Buckkeep. I shared his displeasure in that.

_I'm sorry, FitzChivalry. This is not the life my brother would have wanted for you._

To say that was equivalent to saying that King Shrewd had done wrong in apprenticing me to Chade. I felt mixed emotions at his words. To my surprise, one of the strongest feelings was anger. If he had wanted better for me, he should not have left me all alone at court. The feeling vanished soon after and I was left with only numbness. With no suitable response of my own, I paraphrased words once told to me: _A bastard is a threat, my Prince. It was either kill me or make me useful._ Chade probably would have been the one to kill me, I thought.

I felt that my words had made Verity sad somehow, but he quickly hid the feeling from me and brought us back to business again. _Come here and let's establish a fuller link. I'd like to try something._

I did as he commanded, finding my Prince in his study. He put his hand on my shoulder, and with that physical touch I felt the channel between us widen and my sense of him grow fuller. We parted and Verity stayed with me like one bowl inside another. He did not explore my mind, but settled into his place and got used to my senses.

_You've gotten better at Skilling to me and I think we're nearly at the point where physical contact won't be necessary for this type of work. Close your eyes. See if you can use mine._

I shut my eyes and Verity opened himself to me. I followed the path that was given to me and saw a map on Verity's desk and Verity's arms leaning on it. Verity looked at me and I saw myself standing with my eyes shut. It was disorienting to have no control over what I saw or did, but when I thought of it as how I shared Nighteyes' sight it seemed more natural and I was able to relax. There were differences between his senses and my own, I noticed. Colours seemed more dull through his eyes, and smells were less distinct. Verity was patient while I adjusted myself. 

_You seem to find this easier than letting me ride with you._ He observed and felt my agreement. He deliberated for a time. I could sense that he was thinking but did not know what about. At last he shared with me: _You've taken to this easily, and I know that you've dream walked before. I should train you in what I do. It will take a bit of time, but hopefully save some in the future._

_Skilling suggestions to the Raider captains._

_Yes, but it can be more than that. Most people are like stone walls, but some can be influenced, and others broadcast their thoughts without realizing it. It would be useful to us both if you were able to help me and use it for your own work as well._

My first thought was how jealous Chade would be. My second, I shared with Verity. _I will serve you in any way I can._

And so that morning I spent some hours with Verity guiding my attention. It required that I open myself more to the Skill, and so I felt that it would be very easy to lose myself in it. In battle I knew that I was too sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of the other combatants. With Verity, I made myself that open to all of the every day thoughts and feelings that were so carelessly thrown into the Skill current. It was overwhelming. Verity showed me how he could carefully grasp the thread of one thought in all of the chaos and how he could find a fisherman and raise his spirits, or find Cook Sara and suggest to her that it would be a fine idea to make the buttery, flakey pastries with the soft cheese and fruit preserves.

When I came back to myself, my knees gave way and I sat on the floor. Gradually, I was able to feel the coolness of the stone floor and see through my own eyes again. I patted my arms and legs until I had a better sense of where I ended and the world began.

”That's enough for today, I think.” Verity spoke aloud. He knelt down next to me, a Prince before a bastard. “Are you all right? Perhaps I should not have tried to show you so quickly. I am no Skill master.”

I shook my head, “I'm fine. It's just- I need a moment.”

Verity nodded and went back to his chair. Tiredness came to me next, and then hunger. How was Verity so gaunt when Skilling had made me so hungry?

 _The tiredness wins eventually, though lately I have felt better._ I startled. I had not realized that Verity was still with me. _Is this all right? We can stop if it's too much._

Wearily, I shook my head. _It's fine._

I went to the kitchens and begged an early lunch from Cook, who was hard at work making pastries, to Verity's pleasure. Too soon my meal was gone and Cook clucked at me as she refilled my plate, looking happy and saying something about growing boys. Verity guided my attention to the gossip that floated around the kitchen. Regal's horse had thrown him and he'd sprained his wrist. I barely managed to hide my guilty satisfaction and Nighteyes' proud amusement from Verity.

Verity was quiet inside of me as I finished my food and then called on Lady Patience, who had me hanging bundles of herbs for her. I was tired and only gave half an ear to her talk as she carried on about the differences between the soil in the gardens at Withywoods and Buckkeep.

 _FitzChivalry. I have a meeting to attend. Shall we see if you are able to listen in?_ A pause _Keep in mind that you are only to do so when I ask it of you, of course._

 _Of course._ I was mildly offended that he would feel the need to remind me, but saw why he would do so. I excused myself from Lady Patience's rooms, and went to my own chamber where I could Skill without interruption. I latched the door for good measure.

I lay down in my bed and watched as Verity sat with the Treasurer and Chief of Exchequer to discuss finances. I was pleased to see that he'd invited Kettricken as well. It seemed as though he'd taken my advice. My job as her unofficial advisor would be made easier as she learned from Verity, and it would benefit us all if she was able to take on the duties that Regal had claimed for himself. The Treasurer too had been reporting to Regal, it seemed, as Verity frowned over unfamiliar records and asked questions. Perhaps his fall from the horse had been what brought this duty to Verity. Taxes were higher than they had ever been, and Regal was spending exorbitant amounts on entertainments. Coupled with what was spent on the warships, weapons, and men, the outflow of coin and goods was just as great. Just as obvious as the expenses were what was not spent. Verity made note of every date there had been an attack by the Red Ships and what had, or more often had not been spent on aid. His mood was grim as they adjourned and he left the room.

Verity went not to Regal, but to King Shrewd. At his knock, Wallace opened the door, scowling. When he saw that it was Verity his eyes widened and he stepped aside, bowing humbly. He allowed Verity entrance then slipped out the door. The room smelled strongly of Smoke and Verity wrinkled his nose at it. He crossed the room and tapped at the bedchamber door. It was the Fool who answered, and the smile that lit his face was bright. He threw the door open wide with a bizarre genuflection and did a backflip before skipping over to King Shrewd's bedside. “Sire! Sire! 'Tis the soothsayer come to say his sooth! Pay him heed and pay him gold, and you shall hear all he has foretold! But heed him not and pay him shards, and we will have to call the guards!”

Verity ignored the Fool who, after alerting King Shrewd, fetched a chair for Verity. He set a pillow upon it, then another, and then a third with a simpering manner. Verity shooed him away absently and pushed the pillows from the chair. The Fool helped King Shrewd to sit up in bed then looked around as though he were expecting someone else. It struck me that Verity viewed the Fool as something like his father's pet and so paid him no more attention than he would pay a dog. Perhaps less since Verity was a lover of dogs. I also sensed Verity's dismay to see his father so weak. 

”Father, I have just left a meeting with the Treasurer. Why has Regal been handling the finances?”

King Shrewd gave a rumbling cough and blinked at Verity. “Verity. The treasurer. Did you need money for something? I'm afraid that Regal tells me we are in dire straights.”

Verity frowned and spoke his request clearly: “Yes, that is the problem exactly. Regal has been mismanaging affairs horribly. I would like you to give authority over to me. It is my right as King-in-Waiting.”

King Shrewd frowned in thought, “Regal must learn responsibility...”

”Not in a time of war, father. Not when people are starving and my brother is hosting parties.”

”Perhaps... Perhaps.” King Shrewd mulled this over. “Let me speak with him. I do not think he would be pleased to have his duties taken from him.”

Verity sighed, “I wish it were so easy. I have been occupied with the defense of our coast and while my attention has been there, the people have suffered. Regal is young and he is a third son. If he must learn responsibility, give him his own land and an estate to run, but do not let his novice errors be made at the expense of the Six Duchies.”

”You underestimate your brother, Verity.”

”Truthfully, I do not want the responsibility. You know that I have never relished such duties. Would I ask this of you if I did not feel it necessary?”

The conversation was interrupted by a tap at the door. It opened almost immediately afterwards and Wallace entered, looking a bit red in the face and bearing a tray with tea and the pastries that Cook Sara had been working on. The Fool, who had been listening to the conversation with rapt attention made a series of grotesque faces which were haughtily ignored by the would-be healer while he set the tray down on a table within easy reach of the King and Verity.

King Shrewd waved Wallace away and absently offered a pastry to the Fool who accepted the treat. King Shrewd waited until Wallace had left the room again before replying. “No, I believe you think it necessary... Regal is a good boy. Perhaps if you were to show him?”

”Regal knows what is right and what isn't, Father, it is not ignorance but selfishness that must be remedied. He has always been spoiled.” Verity's frustration was growing.

”I have done my best by all of you.” King Shrewd asserted, voice rising. His strength deserted him, though, and he fell back against the heap of pillows behind him coughing.

Verity watched his father with concern and waited until he'd recovered before speaking, “I know that, father. You have done your best. I know that you want Regal to learn responsibility, but now is not the time.” 

King Shrewd remained as he was, reclined against the pillows and catching his breath.

Verity spoke again. “Are you all right? Would you like tea or water?” He looked to the Fool, but he had fallen asleep, slumped against King Shrewd's bed, so Verity rose and poured water for his father. King Shrewd took the cup with trembling hands. It clattered against his teeth as he sipped from it.

Verity frowned and took the cup again when he'd finished. “Things need to be settled firmly now, Father. I will train Kettricken to assist me in what duties I am unable to find the time for and Regal must learn his place.”

King Shrewd narrowed his eyes in displeasure. His anger, though tiring to the old man, seemed to have sharpened his mind. “I am not as ignorant of goings on as you may think. I am not dead yet.” He shut his eyes and was quiet for the space of a breath, “And while I live, I am still King.”

Verity sat and pressed his lips together, frustrated, “You are King, yes, and so I have come to you to ask you to control your youngest son for the benefit of the kingdom.”

The King opened his eyes again and considered his son. “Regal is doing his best to help you. I would like for you all to be happy.”

King Shrewd's words robbed Verity of his anger, but not his determination. “The happiness of our people comes first, father. That is something my lady wife knows strongly and something my brother fails to comprehend. Let him help another way.”

”I will speak with him.” King Shrewd conceded. “But you will need to show yourself capable. If you had taken up these duties yourself, Regal would not have needed to step in.”

I could sense Verity's annoyance at the rebuke, but he controlled himself. “Very well, father.” He bowed his head, “I will not let you down. Thank you.”

King Shrewd sighed and settled deeper into his pillows. “I would like to see you all settled and happy before I am gone...”

Verity patted his father's hand. “You aren't going anywhere. You're ill, but you'll recover.”

”I rally for some days, but always the pain and the weakness return. Swifter each time it seems.”

I felt Verity's mix of sadness, worry, and anger at his father's words. Beneath that I felt his pain. “That does not mean that you will not be well again.”

King Shrewd chuckled, “Well, I am well enough today. Join me?” He gestured to the plate Wallace had brought.

Verity reached out to take a pastry. Something wasn't right, and I felt the thought pulling at me. Some instinct triggered, some scent on the breeze. I reviewed my memories of Verity's perceptions: Wallace's red face, the Fool falling asleep with his head pillowed on King Shrewd's bed.

 _Stop!_ I Skilled with all of my strength. Verity's hand drew back and he rose from his chair. I sensed his shock and confusion in the back of my mind, but it was an afterthought to me. “Wait.” I told King Shrewd with Verity's voice. With Verity's body, I went to the Fool's side, crouching down so that I could shake his shoulder and, concern growing, check his pulse.

 _What did you do?_ Verity demanded. He was beginning to panic at the loss of control.

Shocked at my own boldness, I withdrew and ceded to him the use of his body, not entirely sure how I'd done it. _Poison, my Prince, or something else. The Fool won't stir. He was paying such attention before Wallace arrived with the pastries._ My mind was racing. What had he been given? Would he be alright? Who would be so bold? 

Verity flexed his fingers and stood from the couch I'd put him in. “Father, excuse me. I will return.”

 _We need to tell Chade!_ I insisted.

_FitzChivalry, report to my study._

I was ejected from Verity's mind and landed in my own, feeling as though I'd just fallen from a great height and dizzy from the blast of Verity's Skill. I recall little of my journey there, only that I soon arrived in Verity's study. Verity was already there. Never had I seen him so furious.

”We need to-” I hesitated to say Chade's name aloud. I was cut off when Verity struck me across the face. I stumbled and raised a hand to my cheek, tasting blood in my mouth. Verity's expression was thunderous.

”I could have you hanged. What did you think you were doing?”

I gaped at Verity. Only then did I realize fully what I had done. In the face of Verity's anger, my human instinct was to explain myself, and my wolf's instinct was to cower with my tail between my legs. The result was that I stood dumbly with no explanation and no defense should he decide to strike me again, which he did. I stumbled back.

”Explain to me why I should not name you a threat and seal you from the Skill myself.”

I swallowed and worked my jaw. “Verity, I'm sorry, I suspected poison and without thinking-”

Verity shut his eyes and took a breath, possibly to control his anger. When he spoke again it was coldly, “You will address me as Prince until you are able to remember that fact. If you dare to use the Skill against me again I will seal you and erase from your mind every memory of your education, leaving you nothing but a simpleton, because if you will use the Skill against me, how can I trust that you will not one day turn your other talents on me as well? I am not blind to your intentions, and that is why I am sparing you this time. Get out before I change my mind.”

I left feeling numb. Even my thoughts were still. Somewhere, Nighteyes whined. I went to my bedchamber and slept. I awoke some hours later in darkness with a blinding headache but shut my eyes again, lacking the energy to do anything about it. I felt a draft that came and went and wondered if it was Chade. Perhaps Verity had changed his mind and Chade would be leaving a drop of poison on my tongue. I did not move. Let what would come, come.


	6. Through a Haze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Fool in this one! I'm sorry I got so wrapped up in the story!

When I awoke, I was instantly alert. There were the noises of someone moving in my room. The soft pad of footsteps, the rustle of fabric. I stayed still and kept my breathing deep and even. Something landed on my face and I sat up abruptly, a dagger ready in one hand, shoving the offending item from me with the other. Soft laughter greeted me.

I blinked at the Fool and gaped like an idiot. Slowly, I put my dagger down. The Fool was standing in the middle of my room, playing with the collar of my shirt. I realized that my chest was bare. Long, nimble fingers caressed the pin that King Shrewd had given me.

”That's mine.” I said, my voice rough with sleep. My heartbeat slowed and I could feel my head throbbing in time.

The Fool nodded, looking more steady and calm than I had ever seen him, and older than his years. A small smile twisted his lips and it was neither mocking nor sarcastic. “Yes. I know. I was so jealous when King Shrewd pressed this pin into your collar. Oh, such envy. I had never felt it so intensely before. But the look on our face. How could I be angry when you looked as though someone had gifted you with the very world. I know what you felt then, for I have felt it too. I came a long way to Buckkeep castle, Fitz.”

I maintained my silence, wondering if I still dreamed. This was a Fool I had never seen before. He had told me something of his journey here that night when he had called me his Catalyst, had perhaps given me some glimpse of his world when he'd named himself White Prophet, but this was more than that. I stayed perfectly still as though he was a butterfly that might fly away if I startled it. The silence stretched with the Fool looking into some far off distance, looking sad, and I could stand it no longer.

”The King favours you as I have never seen, Fool. I am just his bastard grandson. A tool to be used and discarded. You need not envy me.”

The Fool looked up at me sharply and his eyes were wide. He cocked his head in confusion and then laughed. “Oh, Fitzy. I was not envious of you.”

”Then-” I started, but the Fool cut me off, and he was once more his old self. I felt as though I'd failed something.

”Then, now, always, you hear but you do not understand.” The Fool wagged a finger at me and tutted. He hopped up on my clothing chest and gave a bow, “But luckily, I am here to do the thinking for you.”

I groaned and lay back on my bed with my eyes closed. Was I still asleep? My lingering headache suggested not. Was it morning? Gradually my thoughts became clearer and the fog left me. I opened my eyes again as memories returned to me. Verity's meeting with Shrewd, the Fool, Verity's anger. The Fool was striking silly poses atop my clothing chest. “You were poisoned. Are you all right?”

”I am the most right thing in this generation.” The Fool preened. “And so are you.” He hopped off the chest and came to my side. “I came to you last night. Do you not recall?”

I shook my head and regretted it. The Fool sighed dramatically and clutched his hands to his breast. “Cruel, cruel! For you to welcome me into your bed and then deny all come morning. I never took you for such a fiend!”

”I'm not in the mood for your nonsense today, Fool.”

”I speak nothing but sense. It is your own fault if you cannot understand it.”

I ignored him and shut my eyes. There was silence for a time then more rustling noises. When I woke again, feeling more alert but no less heartsick over Verity's anger, my room had been tidied and a tray with a simple breakfast was waiting for me. A sniff of the tea told me that it contained feverfew and ginger. My chest had been rummaged through, and clothing laid upon it. The Fool was nowhere to be seen. My gratefulness warred with the nagging worry that he'd 'borrowed' something again.

I kept to my room that day, and the next, and several more. Chade summoned me once, but I ignored the draft from his secret passage and he did not try again. Nighteyes whined and prodded me with his thoughts, but I turned him away except in the dark of night, when I joined minds with him in the hunt. I knew that Molly must be furious with me, and that I had neglected my duties around the keep, but I could not bring myself to face Molly's anger just then, Verity would not want to see me, and nothing else particularly mattered. The Fool came and went from my chambers and he was my only company in those days. When I snarled at him to leave, he would reply with some joke or insult. When I had the energy to throw my pillow at him, he gave it back to me with a patience that woke a muted fury in me. When I ignored him, he hummed or sang quietly in a language I did not know. It was rhythmic and soothing, and the Fool's voice was more beautiful than I'd expected, though I was not in a mood to appreciate it.

When I was somewhat able to drag my mind out of the bleak nothingness it had submerged itself in and back into my own awareness, I lay on my side facing the wall. The Fool sat next to me on the bed and he told me a story about a sailing ship and her crew who sailed through storms and scorching heat to find not gold, but ancient knowledge. The hero of the tale was a quick witted ship's boy who talked a pirate crew out of robbing and killing them and performed much mischief upon the blustering captain. I listened in silence for a time before I interrupted. My voice was hoarse from disuse.

”That isn't how it ends in real life, is it?”

The Fool looked at me. I knew not whether it was early morning or late evening, but he had opened my curtains and the light that filtered in cast shadows across his face, making him a creature of white, black, and many shades of grey. “No.” He answered, quietly. 

”Life doesn't work like that. You should tell it properly.”

The Fool took a deep breath. The magic that had animated his features during his telling died and he looked very sad and very far away as he continued: “The crew was not seeking ancient knowledge at all. They were an ordinary merchant's ship. When pirates attacked, the merchants struggled, but they were easily boarded. The pirates' feet rumbled on the deck like thunder. Their voices roared like the wind of the fiercest storm. The captain and crew were mostly slaughtered, and their blood wet the decks like rain. The ships boy was taken, abused, escaped, and eventually sold himself as a slave. They took him. They worked him hard and they beat him daily until he thought he could work no more, but work he did to try to avoid another beating. It never worked.”

Silence stretched for a moment. “That sounds more accurate at least,” I commented.

The Fool looked down at his lap. “I can and will never discount the value of recorded history, past or future, but... There is a place for fanciful tales. Ones that turn a terrified and desperate little child into a hero.”

”That place is not with me.”

”Oh, Fitz.” The Fool's sorrow deepened and he patted me on the arm. “The truth is all in how you tell it.”

Meal times came and passed, with the Fool dutifully conveying to me my trays and occasionally convincing me to taste what they offered. I wondered if he took Verity's tray to him and if he still tended to King Shrewd as well. I should have felt guilty, but I felt nothing at all. It was so tempting to stay with Nighteyes. To hunt, gorge, sleep, and hunt again. I relished the burn of his muscles as he raced through the trees, I savoured the tang of blood on his tongue, but I did not deserve the freedom that would give me.

 _Brother, meat is life. One who does not hunt does not live. Rise, brother. And hunt._ Nighteyes urged me. I knew that he was cautious of my strange mood and more than a little disconcerted. I sent him a wave of apology and went back to my own dreams.

I came awake at a draft in my room. The Fool was sleeping on a blanket on the floor, looking small and childlike. I'd always assumed that we were of an age. Looking at him, I wondered. I sighed and stretched, then I left my chamber and climbed the endless stairs to Chade's room, at last emerging from behind the tapestry.

Chade looked me up and down from where he stood by the work bench. “I smelled you before I saw you. You'll never be an effective assassin if you don't bathe, Fitz, really.”

I scowled and blushed. He was right, but I didn't enjoy him pointing it out. “Explain Lady Thyme, then.”

Chade snorted, “I see you've emerged from your little sulk... _Somewhat._ ”

I sat on a stool at the work bench and watched him store dried herbs. I slid the mortar and pestle closer to myself, made sure that it was clean, and helped him crush some leaves into a powder. “I wasn't sulking, I was....” How did I describe it? I didn't know, and so I gave up.

”Yes, I know. You were like that once before.” He glanced at the fruit knife in the mantle. “I'm afraid I am ignorant as to the details of what occurred. Would you care to explain?”

I sighed and began my report dispassionately, sparing no detail. “The Fool seemed fine, though, so I suppose it was for naut in the end. Now Verity is furious with me...” I hung my head, letting the pestle drop against the side of the mortar.

Chade hummed and took a few moments to digest all that I'd told him. Watching him, I saw the flicker of emotions cross his face: surprise, concern, jealousy, speculation, glee, concern again. “You had his best interests at heart, and Verity is not an unfair man. I am sure that he will forgive your impulse. It would seem that you are strong in the Skill indeed, boy. Far stronger than I expected. If Verity will continue to teach you, there will be uses for that talent. Many uses... Would you like me to have a word with him?”

I shook my head. “I cannot fault him for being angry.”

”You cannot, perhaps, and that is all the more reason for him to forgive you.”

”No, Chade, I'd rather that he forgive me on his own, rather than because you've somehow convinced him to do it.”

Chade nodded and continued in his work. I joined him in silence for a time, then asked: “Did you find out who was behind the poison?” I doubted that he would be here calmly working if he had not.”

The old man nodded, “A bit of Shrewd's medicine for pain and for sleep. Apparently it was time for his dose and Wallace had not anticipated Prince Verity attempting to take a share.”

I frowned, “He was red faced and looked as though he'd hurried to arrive. It seems to me he was hoping to send Shrewd to slumber before he and Verity could talk at length.”

”Yes, I think so too, but we have no evidence of that and so there is nothing that can be done.”

”The Fool tried it. Does Wallace always dose King Shrewd's food?”

”Most often it is in his wine or tea.”

”Well then the difference itself is evidence.”

”You must not reach, Fitz. No matter how certain you or I are of a conclusion, we must not try to overanalyze. It could just as easily be explained by coincidence.”

I scowled, “The only ones who need be convinced are you and me.” I argued, “Wallace may have been your tool once, but I suspect he's been lured away from you.”

”You and I both.” Chade agreed, “And what do you suppose would happen if I slipped him a bit of something in his soup? We would have shown our hand. _Whoever_ is behind this clearly believed that Lady Thyme was King Shrewd's only protector and that you are a powerless child. We are unknown to them and that gives us great power. We cannot show our hand too soon.”

It chafed at me to wait when I was so sure where the trouble lay and knew a few very quick and very painful solutions to the problem. I held my tongue and continued crushing and grinding the leaves.

When several hours had passed with Chade getting me up to date on all of the little things I'd missed and quizzing me about the herbs we crushed and mixed, I began to yawn and to answer more sluggishly. Chade noticed and waved me off to bed. I washed my hands well and Chade stopped me as I made my way to the exit. Puzzled, I watched as Chade came to stand before me and placed a hand on my shoulder. His bony hands squeezed gently and his expression was fond as he said: “Glad to have you back, boy. You were given to me to train and I want you to know that I think of you as more than my apprentice. You're my boy. Like a son to me.” He cleared his throat and added, “Go get some rest.” He patted my shoulder once more and then released me, returning to his work bench.

I watched him feeling stunned at his sentimentality, for such affection was rarer than rare. I did not know what I felt. I thought that I should be happy. As a child, when Chade had first taken me as his, I had been entirely his creature. After the incident with the fruit knife some part of me had distanced myself. I felt sad for the boy that I had been, and wished that he had been the one to receive those words.

”Thank you, Chade.” I said, quietly.

I had slept so much recently, but I was still tired when I returned to my room. The Fool was still there, twitching and whimpering in his sleep. I had been quiet but I was still surprised that I hadn't woken him. The candle light accentuated his whiteness and glittered off of his airy hair. I set my candle down carefully and sat down on my bed.

”Please no more...” The Fool mumbled, his arms making useless motions. I was surprised. The Fool was the last person I'd expected to have bad dreams. I sat very still wondering if I should wake him or if he would be upset to know I'd overheard. Knowing how private a fellow the Fool was, I suspected that the latter option was more likely. Still, I was concerned and frowned to myself.

”No more tea!” The lump on the floor protested. I had to bite back a laugh. My worries had been for nothing. I watched the Fool a moment longer, bemused then feeling a bit guilty. Even if the subject of the dream was tea, it did seem to be distressing my friend, and I was not immune to his suffering. At last, I blew out the candle, lay down in my bed, and rustled the bed clothes loudly, coughing and then rolling over, feigning that I still slept. With my eyes shut, I heard the Fool gasp.

”Fitz?” He asked, after a few moments of silence.

I said nothing and only continued my charade. There was a period of silence and then I heard the Fool settle back into sleep. I slipped into sleep soon after.

The next day the Fool was gone, even though I had woken at what a guardsman would call an early hour. His blanket was folded neatly on my clothing chest and a tray of breakfast was waiting for me. I rose, ate, and decided that I really did need to bathe. I dressed myself and went down to the steams and when I emerged I felt like a new man. Whatever darkness had claimed me was gone and I did not miss it. Looking back, I was baffled at my own behaviour. Nothing could be done about it now though, so I stretched and resolved to make up for lost time. I would hunt with Nighteyes, apologize to Molly, and pick up the threads of my investigation. I wondered who had been taking trays to Verity, and decided that the Fool must have taken up that task as well. My chest ached when I wondered whether Verity would ever summon me again, but I pushed it out of my mind. The air was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and the sky was clear. It was harvest season and as merry a time as the beginning of spring for all of the bounty that it brought. It would be a sad time for some; many people had lost their crops and livestock to raids. The thought dampened my mood somewhat, and I resolved to find who had betrayed us to the Outislanders.

I went back to my room to shave and to try to get my hair into some sort of order. Shaving annoyed me and despite my determination not to, I rushed the job and ended up with several nicks for my trouble. The Fool arrived as I was drying my stinging face. I'd latched my door, but apparently that was no obstacle to him. His eyes widened when he saw me sitting at my wash stand and a large smile broke out on his face. He did not have Ratsy with him and he wore a blue and yellow motley. “Ah, Fitz!” He skipped closer to me and peered into my face. “Are you better now?”

”Yes.” I set my towel down. “Thank you, Fool. I know not what came over me.”

”Hm. Well then.” The Fool claimed my hair brush, tucked it under his arm, and ran his fingers through my hair. 

”What are you doing?”

”Becoming the envy of all the girls in Buckkeep castle.” He sighed at the tangles and knots then set to work unwinding them with his fingers.

I frowned. “Bringing me food I understand, Fool, but telling me stories? Brushing my hair? I don't understand why you're doing all of this.”

The Fool found a bit of hair that had become particularly matted and exclaimed in dismay at it. He picked at the mess for a time before responding. “Are we not friends, Fitzy?”

”Well, yes.” I answered. “But I would not brush Hands's hair or tell him stories and sleep on his floor because he was feeling a bit sad.”

”Do not argue with me, Fitz, you will never win. Would you prefer it if I were mocking you? Believe me, I can come up with several worthy jokes. And you were more than just 'a bit sad'.”

I sighed my defeat and allowed him to continue. I had never had a body servant and it was strange to have someone else brushing my hair. Strange, but pleasant enough. The Fool was careful not to hurt me, and I knew that the task would have frustrated me long before it was done. It was still odd to me that I could sense him neither by my Skill nor my Wit, but I did have a sense of him that I could not name. It might have been unnerving otherwise. By time the Fool was satisfied with his work and had tied my hair back for me, I had relaxed completely. I blinked and recalled something that set me back on edge. “Fool, I know that you took two of the scrolls that Verity gave me and gave them to Kettricken. You've also been picking my lock to get in here. You did not have my permission to do those things.”

The Fool set my brush down and came where I could see him, “I did those things, yes, but only because you would not do them yourself.” He frowned, “On bended knee, I begged you! When it became apparent that you would continue on in your willful ignorance - as is an unfortunate habit of yours, I must say – I was forced to take matters into my own hands. You are my favourite, but you are not the only tool I wield.”

”Is that it, then? I am a tool to you as well?” His words upset me more than I expected them to.

The Fool sighed and his expression turned fond. “You are contradictions, Fitz. So many beautiful, wonderful, unlikely contradictions. The noble assassin, the innocent killer, the uncrowned prince, the boy without a name who in a thousand, no, a million futures, did not exist at all... Just a bastard prince. Insignificant, but oh, so important. My catalyst. Changer. The rock in the river of time that will change the course of all history. To them, the others that took me, schooled me, hurt me, and tried to keep me from the world, yes. To them, you would be a tool. To me, you are so much more than that.”

There were so many points in the Fool's speech that I knew not which to follow. I knew from experience that he'd said it that way on purpose, and that I would get the chance to ask only one question at most before he deflected me.

”What am I, then?”

The corners of the Fool's mouth twitched upwards. “An idiot.”

I scowled. “Don't take things from my room without permission again. And I expect you to get the scrolls back from Kettricken, too. Verity is upset enough with me as it is.”

The Fool looked offended. “I am a Fool, not your page boy!” He turned on his heel and strode to the door. “Ask her for them yourself.” He turned back and looked about my room. “And take your own laundry down to the washing courts while you're at it. I've enough to do without tidying after you.” The door slammed shut behind him.

I sighed. No answers, as usual. I didn't know why I expected any better from my strange friend.


	7. In the course of his work

I took the Fool's advice and bundled up my laundry to take to the washing courts. Bastard though I was, I supposed that I could have had a page do it. The idea made me uncomfortable, though. When I dropped off my things, I saw Molly there among the washerfolk. She glanced my way and then away, seeming not to recognize me beyond the interest in a new arrival. I recognized though, in that brief glance, the coldness of her fury and it gave me a sense of foreboding. I thanked the girl who took my things and then departed without any of the usual spying or fishing for gossip that Chade would have recommended. Tonight. Tonight I would see Molly and face her anger at being ignored. I dreaded the encounter, but I loved Molly and knew that I deserved whatever rebuke she would give me.

Next, I called on Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken, intent on doing as the Fool had suggested and retrieving the scrolls myself. At her door, little Rosemary stared up at me as though in awe and then darted inside to announce me to her queen. I did not know what I did to deserve such a look from the girl, and stepped inside when I was admitted. Kettricken smiled at me and dismissed her ladies who exchanged glances with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Lady Melody lingered and looked between Kettricken and I. “Lady Kettricken, perhaps one of us should stay as a chaperone?”

Kettricken tilted her head and then laughed, “A chaperone? Of course not. FitzChivalry has been my closest friend in this court since we met in the mountains.” Of course she omitted that I had planned to kill her brother, and that she had poisoned me to prevent it. “And we have met many times unchaperoned with no improper conduct.” I winced. Didn't she know she was making it worse? “You may enjoy your afternoon.” Lady Melody departed with a speculative look at me.

Kettricken turned to me and her expression became one of sympathy and admiration, much to my confusion. She approached and clasped my hands in hers. “Oh, FitzChivalry. I am so glad to see you well again. To think that you went through such grief at my husband's angry words. The Fool told me all.” By my hands, she gently guided me to sit with her.

”It was nothing, Kettricken. I know not what came over me.” Surely I hadn't been all that bad.

Kettricken frowned prettily, “You need not speak lightly of it with me, Fitz, but I suppose that is the way of menfolk here. I want you to know that I've spoken with my lord husband. I told him most passionately that he should not have punished you for what could have possibly saved his life. Would that someone had done the same for my brother.” Her face became sad and her blue eyes shone like the evening sky as tears began to well in them. “I do love Verity, but he can be unreasonable at times.”

”My Queen, I thank you for taking my part.” I was touched and I smiled at her, wanting her tears to stop. “It means much to me, truly. You must have a care for yourself, though. King-in-Waiting Verity is your husband and the people look to the two of your for strength. You must always be seen as one. I would not have been offended if you'd taken his side.”

Kettricken frowned, “We are to be seen as one? What you are saying is that I am to be seen as him, and that my opinions must give way to his. That is not right and I will not live such a life.”

There were many things to say to that. I could tell her that Verity had been raised a second son and needed to be given confidence in himself as a ruler. I could tell her that it would sew rumours among the folk who already thought ill of her husband if she were to be seen quarreling with him. I looked away from the tears and determination in her eyes. “If you must disagree then, do be cautious of who might overhear. Now more than ever, the people need to have confidence in their rulers. People may also think ill of you for taking the part of your husband's bastard nephew.”

”The circumstances of your birth matter not at all to me, FitzChivalry. Verity was wrong and I told him so.” Kettricken's voice was firm. I bowed my head.

”Thank you, Kettricken.”

My Queen smiled at me. As I let that sink in, I was surprised to feel something like a mixture of love and gratitude rising in my breast and bringing tears to my eyes. I looked away to hide that unmanly reaction. Rather than pretend not to notice, Kettricken rose and put her arms around my shoulders. It would have appeared improper if anyone burst in, and my head rested on her chest, but it was not an embrace between man and woman. She patted my hair and I think she was pleased that for once, she would be my support. I surrendered myself to the comfort she offered me and for a short time, I allowed myself to feel cared for. I wondered if my mother had hugged me like this. 

Kettricken drew away when she sensed that I had calmed myself. I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. “Forgive me. I am still not quite myself.”

”On the contrary, I think that this is the most yourself I've seen you.”

I smiled, “I think perhaps you've been spending too much time with the Fool.”

Kettricken returned my smile. “Perhaps. He has been very worried for you, and I though I would not presume to know his feelings, I hope that he was as glad as I to find someone who shared that concern.”

”I was fine.” How long had it been since I'd angered Verity? The last few days felt like a distant dream to me.

”There is one other matter.” I changed the subject, “Some time ago, the Fool gave you two scrolls to read regarding the Elderlings. They had been entrusted to me by King-in-Waiting Verity and I wondered if you would return them to me when you'd finished with them.”

Kettricken nodded, “Yes. They have been most useful to me and I was pleased when the Fool brought them. A picture forms in my mind. I am not sure of it yet, but the pieces come to me gradually.”

”If I may ask, what is your interest in the Elderlings?”

A small smile graced her lips, “I will tell you when I know my thoughts well.”

”I look forward to it.”

”Perhaps it is just a woman's fancy.” Kettricken looked away, “But I hope to do something to help my people.”

”You are already a great help, my Lady. Simply your presence here gives the people heart.”

”I would do more than that. I will find a way.”

”I have faith in you.”

For a time we talked of little things: of Patience helping her in her garden to prepare for winter, of her childhood in the mountains, of the ladies who'd earned her favour. Little Rosemary had been allowed to stay and busied herself with a small doll. I excused myself after some time and wondered what the gossip would say about the Bastard Farseer alone with his uncle's Queen-in-Waiting. I wondered too what Verity had thought about Kettricken not only taking my side, but rebuking him for his reaction. I understood why he'd acted as he had and I did not hold it against him. Still, it felt good to know that someone had spoken in my defense.

Nighteyes, the Fool, and Kettricken. They had all been there for me in some way. I'd deserved Verity's anger, but they did not chastise me. More than that, they cared for me. Chade, too, had been there in his own way, giving me somewhere to go when I was able to; my role as his apprentice waiting for me like my bed after a cold day. Molly was angry though, and she had every right to be. She knew nothing but that I'd ignored her for days. I knew I could not explain what had happened, for I scarcely understood it myself, but I resolved that I would make it up to her.

That evening I went to the Great Hall. Men, women, and children from all parts of the keep had gathered to listen to minstrels perform and to chat at the hearths while they did their mending or fletched their arrows. I saw a group of children practicing their letters, and I saw boys of about ten years playing at fencing with some sticks. The fire from the many hearths set shadows to dancing as a team of minstrels practiced a verse of a song. I had come to see if I could learn any interesting gossip for Chade, and I cast my gaze about for a likely place to sit and try to make conversation. My eyes found the Fool in the northeast corner of the hall and I walked closer to see what he was doing.

My friend spared me not a glance as I joined the small crowd gathered to watch him, and I stayed to the back of the group. His audience was mostly children today, rather than the lords and ladies of court. My friend was juggling a set of colourful balls. They went in circles or crossed each other, behind his back, over his shoulder. I was impressed at his dexterity. Deftly, he tossed one to a messenger boy, who caught the object despite his surprise. The Fool tossed another to a girl, and I recognized her as his friend from the gardens. What had her name been? She looked thrilled to have been noticed and caught the Fool's eye before smilingly tossing the ball back. It was a gentle, underhanded toss and the Fool skillfully caught the ball back into his intricate trick. He returned her smile, looking pleased.

”Why, sweet lady, you are displeased with the gift I gave? Perhaps this one will be more to your taste.” He waited a moment then dropped another ball as it came to his hand. He caught it on the top of his left foot and sent it flying to her. “Flowers for the Rose Lady of Buckkeep gardens? And who next? You?” He raised his nearly invisible eyebrows at a little girl who was clutching at her sister's skirts. The number of balls he juggled gradually grew less as he tossed them to the court children. When they were only three, he juggled them in one hand as he bent and added more from a sack at his feet, then he continued distributing the toys. An older, chubby boy caught one ball out of the air as it flew and threw it at the Fool. Unlike Garetha's, it wasn't intended to be caught, and I instinctively started forward. The Fool simply sat where he had stood and continued his juggling, allowing the projectile to sail past and clatter against the wall. He rose fluidly and spun around without dropping a single colourful ball, his expression one of exaggerated shock. “A bird? An arrow? What speed! It could only have been young Jaimes on his way to the kitchens for his third dinner, or perhaps his fourth. But that was the wrong way! So where did he go?” The Fool squinted his colourless eyes and peered into the faces of the crowd. The boy who'd thrown the ball scowled.

”There he is!” The Fool crowed. “And you seem to have lost your ball. Do have another. Have two. Have three!” The Fool tossed ball after ball to the boy in rapid succession, the other children stepping aside obligingly and giggling as the boy struggled to catch the fourth and then dropped the fifth. The Fool tutted and tossed the last ball over the heads of the children. I caught it. “Come now, Jaimes, if you wish to make a fool of yourself you've got to do better than that, and if you thought to make a fool of me, well you're far too late.”

I looked down at my prize. A blue ball with golden stars. I pocketed it and turned away as the Fool began shooing the children back to give him room for his tumbling tricks.

I learned a little, but nothing that Chade would not already know from his vast network of spies: guardsmen, inn keepers, whores, nobles, beggar children, serving girls. I grew frustrated because I knew that what I did counted for little. I was most useful for spying in specific situations or when the time came for action, but not for finding general information. How could one man compare to hundreds? I sighed.

A fanfare announced Prince Regal's entrance. I knew not why he'd graced us with his royal presence, but he had the chamberlain and three pages trailing after him bobbing their heads like pigeons, as well as a small crowd of his favoured nobles, as he gestured and directed. I observed from a distance, not keen on drawing attention to myself.

The Fool was not so cautious. He'd been doing a series of flips and hand stands to amuse the children, but at the fanfare, he'd done a final somersault and then skipped over to Regal's entourage with a mischievous smile. He struck up a pose behind one of the page boys and mimicked him, strutting with exaggerated steps and wide eyes. A few people looked their way and tittered. The Fool moved on to the chamberlain and adopted a stern expression and stiff gait with his arms folded behind his back. His head nodded vigorously every time the chamberlain's did.

”Yes, my prince, I think that would be a lovely idea. Very grand.” said the chamberlain.

”Yes, yes!” agreed the Fool, mimicking the chamberlain's voice, “Very grand. The poor wretches from the coastal villages will be most impressed. Why do we not hang their bones from the ceiling? That's all that will be left with no food this winter.”

Regal glanced back with narrowed eyes, then determinedly continued his explanations. I gathered that he had specific ideas as to the decorations for the next ball.

The Fool bounded up to stand at Regal's side next and adopted an arrogant swagger and haughty expression. One of the pages in the retinue was grinning and some of the nobles raised their eyebrows at each other.

The prince looked as though he'd smelled something rotten. With visible effort, he ignored the Fool and continued: “The wall hangings should be themed blue and white, of course, and--”

”Or red to match the blood.”

” _and_ the tablecloths to match. Have someone bring in chairs with matching cushions as well.”

”We shouldn't have anyone uncomfortable while people are dying. Remember that.” The Fool looked sternly back at the followers.

”Have someone instruct cook that we should have something wintery for dinner. Fowl or else have one of the cows butchered. We can scarcely feed them all over the winter.”

”Absolutely nothing seems to be the common choice these days. Well, not exactly a _choice_. We can scarcely feed our own people.”

”Will you shut up?” I had to strain to hear Regal's words as he ground them out between his teeth.

The Fool abandoned his imitation of Regal to adopt an innocent pose. “Shut up? Will I? Eventually I suppose that I'll have to. Will you?”

I was in awe at the Fool's boldness and jealous that he could speak out and not be hanged for it. Though judging by my uncle's expression, the privileges given to a king's Fool might not save his neck. _Don't be an idiot as well as a Fool._ I thought.

Regal snarled, ”You forget your place.”

”I am a Fool. I have not forgotten that. Perhaps it's you who's forgotten yours?”

Regal threw a punch, which the Fool ducked. He cackled as he did a backflip and then pulled a series of grotesque faces at the red faced prince. He grinned and then broke into song:

_Three sons had Shrewd, and each their place_  
_The second's gift was the hunt, and the third's his face._  
_But what would they do with a country at war?_  
_The former would fight and the latter disgrace_  
_For while the people did starve and die for their king_  
_One's Skill was alone and the other's pleasures were base._  
_He dined on the best and oiled his curls_  
_All with the hopes that girls would give chase._  
_Alas! Poor prince, none were forthcoming_  
_They shied from his smell and ran from his... 'mace'!_

Regal was practically steaming with outrage. The Fool gave a bow in each direction, posed with a gravitas that was more befitting of King Shrewd himself than one who'd just made childish faces and sung a silly song. With a final ugly face at Regal, the Fool made good his escape by skipping off through the crowd that had gathered.

I'd half expected a tantrum, but Regal must have matured somewhat, because he did no more than snarl before turning and storming from the Great Hall.

I looked for the Fool, but he had hidden himself well. His mockery of the prince had stirred a few to voice their own opinions and I lingered a while to gather the opinion of the keep. Seated around one of the lesser hearths, a lady's maid was saying to her friends that she thought it wonderful what Prince Regal was doing to keep the courtier's spirits up in these dark times. Another said that she'd gladly give chase to the handsome man, but only if he'd not talk too much. A practical girl declared that he ought to send all of money to the poor folk who'd been raided, but her cynical friend argued that it wouldn't do any good if the raiders kept on raiding. The soldiers would fight them off eventually. Those more high born, and especially those from Tilth and Farrow were more negative. Why should they sacrifice for those who'd been stupid and unlucky enough to live in those coastal villages? If they were incapable of defending themselves, they brought their hardships on themselves.

I learned as much as I was able to, and I made note of which people of import had taken which stance to relay to Chade later. After I'd seen Molly and apologized to her. I departed the hall late in the evening, killing time until I could call on her, and made my way back to my chamber. I was approaching the stairs when I heard a scuffle in a servant's corridor. Pretending to adjust my shoe, I paused to listen. I heard a yelp and then drew nearer. I'd recognized that voice.

Regal had found the Fool, and he stood back while Dew, second son to a Farrow nobleman, held my friend against the wall by the throat. He had been forced to stand on his toes, and his fingers clawed at Dew's trying to loosen his grip. Another young man stood and smirked, I recognized his features as belonging to the Windfeather family. Regal's voice was low and menacing.

”Do not think that my father can protect you forever, worm. You may be his pet, but I am his son. I could have that viper's tongue cut from your mouth and fed to you.”

Dew delivered a hard punch to the Fool's belly before dropping him. The Fool coughed and gagged, sagging against the wall but staying on his feet. Regal smirked.

”No more clever words?”

”Several.” The Fool croaked.

Windfeather took his turn and delivered the Fool a blow to the side and Dew repeated his previous strike. I winced, hoping no serious damage had been done. The Fool dropped, his breath knocked from him. Regal stood looking smug. I felt my anger grow and I made no move to disguise my footsteps as I strode into the narrow corridor. Three faces turned in my direction; the Fool's head hung.

”Prince Regal,” I greeted my uncle then looked at his two followers. “Dew, Windfeather.” I let them know that I knew their names.

”Get out of here, Bastard.” Regal sneered at me. “Off you go back to your hole.”

”Your father would not be pleased with you for hurting the Fool.”

Regal spread wide his arms, “Have I hurt the wretched creature? No. And I will not hurt you either if you insist on being a nuisance. The world would be better off without you.”

”It really wouldn't,” argued the Fool, hunched over his middle with his head still bowed. “The crow speaks with a woman's voice. He eats the dead man's flesh and flies away to nest. It poisons him. He dies. Or else he lives. Or he's eaten by a ferret.” The Fool's voice was hoarse.

”He's babbling nonsense,” commented Dew.

”Hit him again. Maybe it'll knock some sense into him and put a bit of colour on that ugly face.”

My fists clenched. I longed to use them to remove the smirk from Regal's face. From the knowing look in his eye, he knew it. Dew took him by the throat again and he struggled, causing Dew to curse as he kicked. I imagined knocking his teeth out. _The bastard did it! He attacked me out of nowhere. He should be put away._ I could imagine them saying. I was impotent and I hated it. The Fool made a strange sound as he struggled to draw breath and Dew struck him across the face, hard. His head thudded back against the stone wall.

I lunged and knocked several of Dew's teeth loose. He staggered away, dropping the Fool in favour of clutching his jaw. I shook my hand and narrowed my eyes at my adversaries.

Regal scowled and nodded his head toward me. “Well? Are you just going to stand there and take that from a filthy bastard?”

He wasn't. Dew abandoned the Fool and came at me first, aiming a jab at my face. I leaned out of the way, outside of his arm and down, landing my own blow on his side and stepping back. He growled and came at me again, looking more vicious with the blood leaking from his split lip. Windfeather followed suit.

”How dare you even touch me, you whore's son?” Dew demanded as he landed a solid blow to my torso and then another glancing blow to my cheek. “She should have just killed you at birth!”

He drew back again, but I leapt at him, snarling like my wolf and got inside of his reach. I hit him, several times I think. Nighteyes was with me and he shared my savage satisfaction in every strike. “What are you doing? Fight him off!” I heard Regal growl. I think that Windfeather tried to pull me off of his fellow, but I ignored him.

”Fitz!” I stopped and looked up at the sound of the Fool's voice. I'd been kneeling over Dew and pummeling him. Windfeather was approaching me again and had drawn his belt knife. A small thing, as it would be uncouth to go armed as a guest in court, but a blade nonetheless. My pause gave Dew enough time to punch me in the jaw. The Fool threw himself at Windfeather, presumedly to try to wrestle the knife away. He clearly had no experience fighting and I wished that he'd run instead. I got off of Dew to avoid another blow and gave him a kick before approaching the Fool and Windfeather.

Windfeather threw the Fool to the ground and backed up. He looked to Regal.

Regal wrinkled his nose at us. “Disgusting. He even fights like a savage. Come. My father will hear of this, and I will ensure that he is disciplined. Severely.”

The three made their exit and I panted to catch my breath and wiped some blood from my mouth. I wondered if it was mine. My lip stung, so it probably was. I went to the Fool's side and helped him as he struggled to sit up. He was shaking.

”Are you alright?”

The Fool smiled a pained smile at me. I realized, bizarrely, that he still had most of his first set of teeth. “Fine, Fitz. I'm no stranger to beatings. Oddly, the King's protection... does not extend to the gardens or servant's ways. Why did you do that?”

I frowned, “Do what, help you?”

The Fool blinked. His eyes were bloodshot, which made them look even more strange. He crossed his arms over his middle, taking shallow breaths for a moment before he spoke. “Yes, that. They would have stopped.”

”We're friends. You could say thank you.”

”Thank you.”

”Can you stand?”

The Fool nodded. I helped him to his feet, steeling my heart against his discomfort. He swayed for a moment and I steadied him as we left the servant's corridor and mounted the stairway. The thought of climbing all of the stairs to his tower chamber was daunting and I led him to mine instead. I wondered if I would see Molly that night.

I latched the door behind us and rummaged through my chest. Poisons I had in excess; my store of healing supplies was paltry in comparison. The Fool sat on my bed for a few minutes in silence then stood again. “I thank you for your brave defense, Fitzy. I should go.”

”Sit.” I commanded. “You've blood on your shirt.”

The Fool remained standing and I turned to scowl at him. “Sit.” I repeated in the tone that Burrich had often used with me. He sat.

I dumped my armful of supplies on the bed and sighed. Now that we were safe, I felt the ache of my new bruises and the sting of my cut lip. I sat beside him on the bed.The Fool frowned at me and reached out a hand to thumb some of the blood off of my chin. “You shouldn't have done that.”

”Excuse me for caring when my friend is being throttled.”

”You don't understand!” The Fool raised his voice, clenching his hands into fists. He looked down at his lap. “The moment you came, things shifted. They would have stopped. You didn't need to interfere. Every moment you stayed you made it more and more likely that they would kill you.”

I huffed. “Even Regal wouldn't be so bold. At least not while King Shrewd lives.”

”The one with the knife would have tried to slit your throat.”

”They were noble's sons in a brawl, Fool, not murderers.”

”They're Regal's friends. They probably twist the heads off of mice for fun.”

I leaned back and studied the colourless boy. Not so colourless now: he would have a lot of bruises. He was frightened and that was understandable. I lowered my voice and spoke to him as I would speak to an injured horse. “It's over now. We're safe now and neither one of us was killed.”

Tears welled in his eyes, pooled, and then tracked down his cheeks. He made as though to pull his knees up, then thought better of it and bowed his head. “You change things. You change things and it's almost frightening. You aren't allowed to change things in ways I don't want you to.”

He was making very little sense. I ignored it and focused on more urgent matters. “We're fine. Come on, you're bleeding and it can't be that bad if you're sitting here talking, but I want to make sure. Take off your shirt.”

”No.”

”Fool.”

”No.”

”I'm just going to bandage you and make sure it isn't too serious.”

”It's not. I'll do it myself.”

If he was going to be stubborn, then fine. I didn't have the patience to deal with it. “Very well. Fine.” I gestured to the supplies strewn on my bed. “Do it.”

”Alone.”

I threw up my hands and turned away from him, going to sit by my wash stand and examine my wounds in the looking glass. I washed the blood off of my face and decided that I would have an impressive bruise on my jaw. The one from Verity was just fading. Don't think about that. Focus on now. I poked at the cut on my lip. It wasn't too bad. There was silence behind me.

”This is as alone as you'll get. I'm not leaving, and you're staying here tonight,” I decided. “Your throat could swell up and you could die.”

”It won't.”

”I'm serious.”

There was a moment of hesitation and then I heard the sounds of the Fool tending to his injuries. I allowed him his privacy and held my wet wash cloth against my face. Molly would not be amused and at that thought, I wondered what time it was. The Fool would certainly vanish if I left him alone. I sighed. Well, one more night wouldn't do more damage than had already been done between Molly and I. I heard a few pained sounds behind me.

”Do you need any help?”

”I'm _fine._ ”

”Very well, then.”

”Just...”

”Yes?”

”Perhaps you could help me tie this. If you wanted to.”

I rose and approached. The Fool had undone his bottom few buttons and held a wad of bandaging against the side of his belly and simultaneously tried to tie it in place. I knelt before him and put my hand over his then pressed, making the Fool hiss. “We'll stop the bleeding first, otherwise it'll just soak through. Is it deep?” A shake of his head reassured me. “What were you thinking making mock of Regal like that?”

”You know what I was thinking: I sang it quite loudly just a few hours ago.”

”You could have kept silent.”

”Everyone keeps silent, Fitz. Even when they think it, which is rare enough, they keep silent and the wheels just keep on turning. I am a Fool. It is my duty to say these things aloud.”

”Well it could have gotten you killed.”

”My gallant hero was there to save me. I could swoon.”

”I'm nobody's hero.”

”You are. And I really could, I think.”

”Lie down.”

”So romantic.” The Fool laid down and I ignored his jest, standing so that I could continue. The bandaging was sodden, so I put more on top of it. His blood was very red against his white skin.

”If it's that bad, perhaps you should see a healer. I'm alright with dogs and horses, but...”

”No, it's not that. I'm just relieved.”

When his bleeding stopped, I gently peeled away the bandaging. I judged that Windfeather might have tried to stab him, but missed and ended up giving him a slice across the middle. Would he have tried to slit my throat? Perhaps. Would he have succeeded? I doubted it. I narrowed my eyes and imagined all of the ways I would have hurt him first, then I imagined doing the same to Regal. I did not like to think of myself as a killer, though I'd killed well and often. My quiet work for the King was just that. I was a tool to be ordered, and I did not like to let those things affect my image of myself. Even in battle, I was fighting for my king and the Six Duchies, never for myself. Still, it was hard not to want to I rose to get a damp cloth and then began cleaning his wound, ignoring the strange expression on the Fool's face. That done, I put some of Burrich's ointment on it and covered it with fresh bandaging . The Fool had to rise for me to tie it around him and we had a small disagreement when he would not lift the back of his shirt. He grabbed my wrist when I tried, and then insisted on putting the bandage around himself. He let me help after the first lap and I shook my head at his oddness.

That done, I examined the rest of him. The Fool's chin was scraped from Dew's rings and he had the beginnings of a black eye. His throat was red, and he'd probably have bruises beneath his ears. My hand on his belly revealed no alarming swelling. My friend had gone oddly quiet while I examined him, but that was just fine.

He giggled suddenly and I looked at him. As often as he joked, it was rare to hear him laugh. He grinned, “Regal's face when you were beating his friend.”

”I wasn't paying attention. What did he look like?”

The Fool twisted his face into a look of horror and we laughed together for a time, the Fool mindful of his injury.

”I doubt he's ever seen a brawl much less a battle.”

”Oh, but can you imagine him in a battle, his hair coiffed and trying not to get his clothes dirtied? 'Get away from me, you barbarian, this is silk from the Spice Islands!'” We both laughed again.

”He wouldn't last a day.”

”He might if he hid.”

”That would be like him.”

”Yes, it would.” The Fool smirked and then went quiet. “You were planning to see your Molly tonight.”

”I was. I'm sure that she's furious with me, and one more night won't hurt. I don't think that I'm up to calming her temper tonight.”

”But you were up for ruining the faces of pretty noble boys?”

”And now I'm tired.” I sighed and rose, realizing that my words had not been untrue. My bed and sleep were suddenly very tempting. It had been my first day up and about the keep after whatever bleakness had claimed me and already I had to wonder why I bothered. Verity would not be pleased that his wife had stood up for me, and now I would have Regal's vengeance to look forward to. My mood darkened in a sudden contrast to our laughter but moments before and I began readying myself for bed by removing my jerkin. It went in a heap by my clothing chest. I'd tidy another time. I undid the laces of my tunic and pulled it off over my head. Behind me, the Fool coughed and I turned to look at him in concern. “Are you alright?”

The Fool's face had gone pink and he had a hand pressed over his injury, which must have been jarred by his coughing. He nodded twice but I did not relax my vigil until he'd responded verbally. I finished undressing, letting the rest of my clothing join the pile, and found a clean night shirt to wear, thankful that I'd taken my things to be laundered that morning. I considered for a moment, and then dug through my clothing chest for a shirt I'd outgrown. Mistress Hasty complained that I grew like a weed, and always made large hems so they could be let out more than once, but I was sure I had a few that were hopelessly small to be used as rags or patches. I did not have many clothes and I would have nothing to fit the Fool, but at last I found something that would suffice. I tossed it at him. “Here, you can wear this.”

The Fool held it and looked at it as though I'd thrown him a wild cat.

”Well? You have bells on your clothes. You're not wearing bells to bed.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “You keep trying to get me out of my clothes. Fitz, people will talk.”

I did not grace his jest with a response and the Fool looked at me pointedly. I rolled my eyes and turned my back.

The Fool looked ridiculous in a motley and that was the intended effect. He looked even more ridiculous in ordinary clothes, though, and my shirt hung on his more slender frame. I felt rather proud of how all of my training and rowing had paid off. The Fool lifted his arms and flapped them, the ends of the sleeves wagging past his fingertips. He tutted and rolled them up then fussily adjusted the laces. He was still wearing his two coloured tights. The Fool noticed my scrutiny and glanced at me in an unfamiliarly self-conscious way. The bright colours, bells, embroidery, and ribbons on his usual costumes would look odd on any other man, but they fit his natural strangeness. In plain grey wool, his paleness was somehow even more startling. I realized that the bright clothing had always distracted from his other unusual features. His bone structure was very delicate, I noticed, and there was something odd about his wrists. I blinked and perceived only my friend again.

”Well, move over then.”

”You've a very small bed, Fitz.”

”That's why I asked you to move over. I'm not sleeping on the floor.”

The Fool made to get up and I stepped closer to push him back down, gently I hoped, but he still made a sound in the back of his throat. “Sorry.” I said.

My odd friend made no response, but shifted as far as he could to the opposite edge of the bed. I lay down next to him and shifted until I was comfortable. There was silence save for the Fool's breathing next to me and I shut my eyes hoping that Chade would not summon me that night. I wondered what Molly was doing and if she would be waiting up for me. I hoped not.

”Fitz?”

”What is it?”

”Thank you. Even if it was unnecessary.”

It sounded like he meant it that time and I sighed, settling into a more comfortable position. ”Seemed necessary enough at the time. Good night, Fool.”

”Good night.”

I woke only once that night, and I rolled over before I remembered that I was not alone. I was almost nose to nose with the Fool and I could feel his breath on my face. Well, at least he hadn't asphyxiated. He had his hands curled up to his chest and the blanket had ended up around both of our legs so I pulled it back up and covered us both. Nighteyes was a contented presence in the back of my mind, head tucked to tail and sated with the night's meat. _Pack,_ we thought, and I drifted back off to sleep.


	8. A new mission

I stood awkwardly in Verity's tower room holding a tray heavy with porridge, tea, sausages, and bread. My prince was between me and the table. I stood still as I assessed the situation and then cautiously, very cautiously, I started forward, intending to go around him. He moved to block my way again. I stood still.

That morning, I had awoken to a tap at my door. I bolted up from a sound sleep and looked first at the door, and then beside myself, wondering how I would explain the presence of the King's jester in my bed. I needn't have bothered, because the Fool was nowhere to be seen. Mind muzzy from sleep, I even shifted the blanket as though he could be hidden beneath. The tap sounded again and I rose to open the door. A young messenger's eyes widened at the sight of me, and I wondered how much of a fright I looked. He was dark of hair and eye, typical for those of Buck stock, and his face was very expressive. Fedwren had probably only begun to trust him with important tasks and he seemed very intimidated. 

”A message from King-in-Waiting Verity for FitzChivalry.” The boy cleared his throat, “He asks that FitzChivalry be reminded that he has not been excused from his duties and would like to inform him that he will take breakfast in his tower this morning.”

I blinked again. At the mention of Verity, my stomach clenched. Had he decided to punish me? Anyone with legs could deliver his meals. Did he want to talk? Was he angry still? I did not want to see him, but a royal command was a royal command. I threw on yesterday's clothes, since they were the nearest at hand, and went to Verity with my mind racing and my heart heavy with dread.

Standing before my prince, my every muscle was tense. Moments passed and neither of us moved. I breathed.

”My apologies for being absent from my duties, Verity. It will not happen again.”

”It will not.” He confirmed. I could read nothing from his facial expression. “And I thought that I told you to address me as prince.”

I kept my eyes on the tray. “You did. For as long as it took for me to remember that you are my prince and King-in-Waiting. I have never forgotten that.”

There was silence again and I started forward to put the tray on the table. This time Verity let me pass and I relaxed when I heard him chuckle. “No, you didn't, did you? You've my brother's knack for diplomacy, Burrich's stubbornness, and the impulsiveness of youth.” He sighed. “Fitz, look at me.” I looked up and my eyes met my future king's. He was haggard; the lines on his face and hints of grey in his hair made him appear older than his years. His dark eyes held my gaze and he reached out slowly to put his hand on my shoulder. I stood very still as he spoke. “I apologize. I was harsh with you, and for that I am truly sorry.”

I looked away and for the space of two breaths said nothing because there were too many things that I could say. I fought to keep my voice steady when I did at last speak: “I've already forgiven you, my Prince.”

Verity's eyebrows lifted and he huffed, then he frowned and prodded my cheek. “That's not from me. Who struck you?”

”It's nothing.”

”That isn't what I asked you.”

I could not lie to my prince's face. ”Dew of Farrow.”

”And why did he strike you?”

”Because I punched him in the teeth, my Prince.”

Verity raised his eyebrows. I thought that he would ask me why I'd hit him, but instead he sighed and said: “Brawling is for stableboys and rowdy guardsmen, Fitz. Not for the nobility or princes of the blood, no matter what side of the sheets they were born on.”

”I thought it necessary at the time.”

”You have a history of rash action. You should learn to control your impulsiveness and think well before acting. Do you think that a noble's son will forget that you attacked him?”

”I hope not.”

Verity sat at the table and uncovered his tray. He poured himself a cup of tea and looked into its depths. “There is a war on, Fitz. If I could, I would take up my sword and leave with my guard this very minute. I would take my war ships and sail them to the Outislands where I would slay the Raiders in their own lands and with my own blade. But, here I sit. I do not have time to teach you all that you should know, but I will tell you that no matter how much it chafes and tears at you, careful thought should go into each decision that you make.”

Unbidden, the Fool's mocking song floated through my mind. _You waste your hours to your own defeat. You work to stop, you strive to refrain, when all your effort should go to a gain._ I shook the words clear. “There are times when action must be taken quickly. Times when delay can mean the difference between life and death.”

”Then a life was at stake?” Verity questioned.

I blinked, calling to mind what we'd been discussing. “I believed one was, my Prince.”

Verity appeared to think and then nodded. “We will say no more of it, then. I am, perhaps, the least qualified to be giving advice when in three years I have been unable to drive Outislander raiders from our shores. Perhaps I have had too much caution. I know what the people say: that I am hiding up here in my tower.” I saw his fist clench. “They're right. And all I do is react to disaster after disaster. What use is my Skill when for every ship I thwart, ten more come after it? I am but one man and my coterie is only just better than a few good messenger birds.”

”You do not hide, Verity. Your Skill has saved countless lives, as have your warships and your men.”

”Not enough.” The older man relaxed his fist and rubbed his hand over his weary face. “It is as though the Raiders know our every move before we make it.” He lowered his hand and then stood from the table. “I have no time for this. I apologize again for my words and actions. You could have saved my life if the threat had been real”

”It was real.”

Verity fixed his gaze on me. “Be careful of what accusations you give voice to, FitzChivalry. It was no more than a poorly placed dose of the King's medicines. If you could focus your attention on those who might be motivated to sell their knowledge to the Outislanders, it would be very helpful.”

I bowed, dismissed. “Good day, Verity.”

I was anxious as I went about my tasks for the rest of the day. I no longer had to fear Verity's anger, but I wondered when Regal would have his revenge and what form it would take. Nighteyes had had a good night of hunting and was sleeping in his den, but he stirred at my agitation and rebuked me. _Useless to snarl at shadows. Save your strength to fight; do not spend it on imaginary enemies._

_If I know what's coming, I can prepare to counter it._

An annoyed flick of his tail. _How will you know until it happens?_

_I won't know, but I will have some ideas._

_And you will be distracted and tired when you are attacked. Better to think and react when it is necessary, brother._

Agreeing with him did not make it any easier not to worry, and Nighteyes gave up trying to talk sense into me. Angrily I decided that Regal could do what he liked, and then regretted deciding that as I thought of how he'd cornered the Fool. I had confidence that I could best him or his friends if they decided to attack me openly. Was Molly in danger? Or would he take more subtle revenge?

When I tapped on Molly's door late that night, I was greeted by my lady's steely glare and crossed arms. Her eyes widened marginally at the sight of me, but I saw her lips thin as she hardened her resolve to be angry with me.

”Come in.” She said not warmly, and I slunk in like a dog who had been harassing the chickens and knew he'd done wrong. 

”Molly,” I started, but she cut me off with a finger jabbing into my chest.

”No. I've had enough of your excuses, Fitz. Is this how it's going to be? You come to me in the middle of the night when it's convenient for you and set me aside when it isn't? I am a person, not some trinket that you can use and discard!”

”Of course you're a person, Molly. You're my favourite person and I love you, I have never once thought of you as an object.”

”Well, it certainly doesn't feel that way.” Molly's eyes shone with tears as she glared fiercely, “Do you have any idea what it's like working here as a servant, getting the scraps of your attention and knowing that it can never last? That we will never be wed and have a home of our own or a family?”

”We will, Molly, we will!” I reached a hand out to touch her, to draw her near and embrace her, but she hunched her shoulders and drew away from me. It was more painful than any of her words had been. I drew my hand back and clenched my fists, my nails digging painfully into my palms. I deserved it. “I swear it by Eda and El. I swear it on my life. Prince Verity has told me that I may wed whomever I like when he is king.”

”I do not need words, Newboy, I need a husband. One who will not abandon his wife when this duty or that calls him away. One who will not ask me to live as a servant in his house or hide me like I am something to be ashamed of.”

”I am your husband and you are my wife. In my heart it is so, even if it is not in name. I would take you to the Witness Stones this very moment and pledge myself to you if I could.”

”One who is not pledged to another. Fitz, how could you say that when you know that you already belong to someone else?”

”I belong to no-one but you, I swear it.” I stepped closer again, braving the threat of her fists or her nails to put my arms around her, needing to feel the warmth of her. “Molly, please. Endure it a while longer. For me.”

Molly was stiff in my embrace but did not pull away. “How long must I endure it, Fitz? You are promised to another and King-in-Waiting Verity is not the King. We cannot be wed, not for years at least. Will you ask me to endure it while you marry your noble lady and take me as your mistress?”

”Never,” I swore.

”Promises...” Molly sighed and leaned against me. I held her tight.

”I promise you, Molly. I love you.”

I felt Molly freeze and begin to pull away. I let her and looked down at her, confused. She plucked from my shirt a single hair, far lighter than my own black curls. She studied it and then frowned. When she spoke her voice was odd. “So that's what you were doing.”

I frowned too. “What do you mean?”

Molly held the strand of hair aloft and I could barely see it save for glints in the dim light of the room. “Whose is it? Your lady's or some other poor maid's?”

”It must be the Fool's.” I refused to explain why it might also be the Queen-in-Waiting's.

Molly stared at me.

I began my explanation of the events of the night before. Molly stood facing me with her arms crossed and I shifted on my feet awkwardly by the door as her eyes flickered over my battered face and my bruised hands. When I concluded my hurried explanation, Molly sighed and sat at the edge of her bed. I took a step forward and when she did not stop me, I joined her.

”You have honour,” Molly said, looking down at her hands, “it's one of the things I love about you. You're loyal and brave and selfless.”

I shifted and was not sure if I should thank her or not.

”I wish...” Molly blinked rapidly and I became aware that she was fighting back tears. “I wish that you were just Newboy and that I had won your loyalty first. You're a good man, I believe that. You would have made a good husband.”

”I will be a good husband to you, Molly. I promise you that.”

Molly shook her head and said nothing, wiping her eyes, determined not to cry.

”I promise,” I repeated.

”Undress. I want to take a look at your injuries. You men never know how to care for yourselves properly.”

I was very willing to accept this change of topic and slowly, I undressed myself. When I was done, my love unbound my hair from its tail and threaded her fingers through it and I relaxed, thinking myself forgiven. I tensed again when she ran her hands over my skin and poked and prodded at my bruises none too gently, making me hiss. I frowned up at her and she frowned right back with a determined set to her jaw as she continued to torment me with a businesslike demeanor. When she was satisfied that nothing had been permanently damaged, her touch softened and I lifted my hands to untie the laces of her dress then slid it down her shoulders. She wriggled her hips and kicked her legs to send the fabric to the floor. I groaned.

Molly evicted me from her rooms that night after we'd both caught our breaths and I left feeling simultaneously relieved and rejected. She seemed to have forgiven me for my neglect of her, but she was not happy and though I knew how to please her, I also knew that I could not take the steps that I would need to take to do so. I had sworn myself to King Shrewd and to Verity, and I was Chade's apprentice. To tear myself free from all of my obligations would be too much. Perhaps Molly was right.

The black stone corridors were lit by spaced torches, and the patches of light were like planks in a bridge over a river of inky darkness. I went on my way, each step taking me farther from Molly, and I wondered if she would let me stay the night if I turned and knocked at her door again. I paused and considered it, then continued on my way. If my lady wanted time to herself, then I would respect that wish. 

When I returned to my own chamber, I kicked off my boots and readied myself for sleep, focusing my thoughts on Molly. She wanted more time with me, and I decided to visit her the next night and every night I could. Perhaps I would go down to Buckkeep Town and buy her a necklace or a pin with the remainder of my stash of coins. No. A bottle of wine and some sweets, and I would steal her away from the keep. We would go down to the beach and enjoy our feast like the last time I'd ambushed her as she returned from her duties in town. My mind drifted on those happy memories but could not have been in bed for more than a few moments before the secret passageway was opened. I lay in bed a short while longer feeling irritated before I dragged myself back out of the covers and began to ascend the narrow stairway.

”You took your time,” Chade observed.

”I was asleep,” I defended myself.

Chade gave me a knowing look, but did me a mercy by not telling me exactly what he knew I had been doing. “I have new information regarding the Raiders that I would like you to follow up on.”

I straightened and my irritation was forgotten. “What news?”

”Not news per se, but some information that I found interesting. More than our defense plans may be reaching the Outislands. You are aware that Skill-mistress Solicity had compiled a number of scrolls on the Skill that were passed down through the years and had contributed a number of writings to that collection herself?”

I had not been, but it made sense. “And?”

”That collection was passed on to the late Skillmaster Galen and upon his death was seized by Prince Regal.” Chade rose from his chair and took an old looking scroll from his writing desk. He unfurled it carefully and I joined him to peer over his arm. “The Skill is, as you know, our family's magic, and knowledge of the Skill is carefully controlled.” I heard in his voice the old anger that he felt at being denied training in his hereditary magic.

I nodded and frowned as I squinted at the faded lettering, “This pertains to the Skill. How did you get it?” I turned my head to look at the old man. Had he stolen it from Regal? For what purpose?

”This was found by one of my... friends. He was wise enough to recognize the quality of it, despite its age. He is not a lettered man, but he deemed it important enough to arouse my interest. He presented it to another of my people, and it will suffice to say that it eventually found its way into my hands.”

”Where was it found?”

”A ship was seized at the docks by guardsmen who suspected the captain of smuggling Outislander refugees into the Six Duchies. If any had arrived with the ship, they had already left by the time the ship was seized. Nevertheless, any goods remaining aboard were searched, along with the documents in the captain's possession, including the log books, maps, letters, and this.”

”Why would a scroll about the Skill be on a ship bound for the Outislands?”

”An excellent question. I want you to search Galen's old quarters and the coterie members' quarters. Check their correspondence, check for any strange contacts, check for money or spending that seems unusual. I also want you to investigate the servants who would have been given the task of cleaning their rooms. It is possible that someone simply saw something of value, stole it, and sold it.”

”You said that Regal seized the scroll collection?”

”I did.”

I said nothing, only waited for Chade to tell me what to do. When he said nothing after several moments, I frowned.

At last, Chade spoke: “I will be handling the matter of Prince Regal's possible involvement.”

”You don't think I can do it?”

”I think that you are young and impulsive, and I think that Prince Regal is as well. If by some chance you did betray yourself, he would do more than bruise your face.”

”I will not betray myself,” I was offended, “You trained me better than that.”

”You will not because you will be leaving this to me. You will be busy enough with the coterie members. If I did not have faith that I had trained you well, you would still be stealing shears and collecting kitchen gossip.”

My anger simmered and I glared at the stone floor. The moment Regal's name had been mentioned, I was certain that he had a hand in it. But why? Could he be greedy enough to sell information to our enemies? I wanted to find out. Chade interrupted my brooding.

”Ours is a delicate job, Fitz. We do not take action without the King's consent: to do so would be treason. Investigating one of the royal family, the King's own son, is not a task to be taken lightly. I will be determining whether he is still in possession of the Skillmaster's scrolls. I will be checking his correspondence. Equally carefully, I will investigate his body servants and the maids who clean his rooms. I cannot go to King Shrewd without proof, and to give that proof will be to admit to acts that he may see as an offense. Let me handle my brother and my nephew.”

”King Shrewd's mind wanders,” I pointed out.

”King Shrewd is ill; he is still our King.”

”Yes, Chade.”

”You understand your tasks?”

”I do.”

”Good. Now go get some sleep, boy. I expect you've tired yourself out.”

I blushed. “Good night, Chade.”

As I turned to go, Chade spoke again, softly. “Be careful, boy.”

Did he refer to my mission or to Molly? “I will.”


	9. Spread Thinly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting so patiently. Your kind encouragement has been most appreciated and has made me very happy! You're all wonderful. This is half as long as I feel it should be, but there was a nice place to pause and so I wanted to hurry and share it. More will follow!
> 
> EDIT: Something happened when I posted this. Going back to read it, I noticed that some was missing! I've put it in.

The next morning, I collected Verity's tray and delivered it to his tower room without prompting. Though he had forgiven me for my impulsive use of the Skill, I was no longer sure whether I would be welcome to Skill my intention to him. After all, Verity had chosen to send a messenger to my door the day before rather than Skill his order to me. The idea that he no longer felt comfortable doing so made my heart ache, and my other physical aches seemed to have magnified over night. I was sore where I had been bruised in the act of hitting my assailants or being hit by them, and even where I bore no bruises, I was stiff and tender. The fight two nights before and my time with Molly the night after were catching up to me, and I cursed each step as I mounted it. I wondered if this was what old age felt like, and I wondered if Chade grumbled at the stairs to his quarters.

Verity was Skilling in earnest, it seemed, because he gave no sign of having noticed my entrance. I set the tray down and arranged things idly, wondering if I should interrupt. Probably not. I looked over at my prince and noticed that the small vase of flowers that the Fool had brought was still there, and the flowers that sat there were fresh. I shook my head. The Fool was a mystery.

”Stay, Fitz.” Verity's voice startled me out of my thoughts. I straightened and then waited several moments before Verity turned to face me. He gave me a strained smile and motioned for me to sit while he stood, stretched, and came to join me. He lowered himself into the chair gingerly, like an old man. I reached over and uncovered his food, feeling ashamed of myself for sulking over my own pains. They would heal.

”I have thought about this at length. Truthfully, I have been considering this matter for some months.” Verity began. I sat back to listen, giving him my full attention. “When I say this, I am not intending to imply that you are in any way unintelligent. The opposite, in fact. You have been educated the way my father saw fit, and that was his decision to make, given my brother's retreat from court. Unfortunately, I've come to realize that there is much you have not been taught. Things that would behoove a Farseer to know. Had my brother not abdicated the throne, you might have had a very different life.”

”Verity, Lady Patience has lately undertaken to teach me some things. Poetry, music, art.”

Verity smiled kindly and sipped his tea. “I mean no insult to my dear brother's wife, but I had other things in mind. You've Chiv's instinct for diplomacy, I think, and a mind for battle tactics as well, from what I've seen. Moreover, you are just and kind, but not so much so that it would interfere with your reason. You are already being educated in some of the sadder necessities behind the throne.”

”Yes,” I confirmed, confused as to where this conversation would turn.

”Once you grow out of your impulsive streak, I think that you will excel at politics. Don't make that face. I would not wish a life of politicking upon you. Still, were it a choice...” My uncle trailed off and then shook his head. “It will suffice to say that I would like to spend some time training you. In the Skill, but in other things as well. I do not know much, since it was always Chiv who was raised for such things, and I have so little time, but...”

”Verity,” I began hesitantly, “Perhaps Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken would benefit most from such lessons? Ch-... I am already being taught what I need to know of politics.”

”Perhaps, and if I had more time, I would agree. If I had time, I would not need to contemplate this at all. Unfortunately, I do not. Kettricken knows far less than you do of our ways. Better for me to teach you what I know and have you serve as advisor to her.”

I did not know what my prince hoped to gain by teaching me, but it was not for me to question his judgment. “Very well. If it pleases you, then I will learn what you have to teach me. But, Verity, you said the Skill. You will continue to train me, then?”

Verity nodded, “ I will. I admit that a part of me is reluctant, but it would be foolish for me to refuse. I trust your loyalty, and I need a man who is not only skilled, but trustworthy as well. Would that I had an entire coterie of Skilled ones at my disposal, but I find myself unwilling to let those Galen chose into my confidence. I will need to ask you to play many roles for me, FitzChivalry. You are my weapon, my strength, and now my voice, if you will continue to advise my lady wife. I hope that it is not too much to ask.”

”My prince, nothing you asked of me would be too much. I am yours.”

”Good, then.” Verity sighed, as though he set down some great burden. “We will begin another day. The skies are clear today, and I must keep an eye on our coasts. Soon, though. Winter is nearly upon us.”

I stayed until Verity finished his breakfast, and then I bore the tray back down to the kitchens. I could not understand why Verity would suddenly feel the need to teach a bastard the ways of statecraft, but his mentorship was not unwelcome. I had been clumsily attempting to guide Kettricken into fully assuming her role as Queen-in-Waiting, but neither she nor I had a full grasp of what we did. Yes, Verity was right to make sure that I did not lead his queen astray.

Reflecting on the condition of the court, I scowled at the realization that Regal had been able to pick up the reigns of power with barely a struggle. It went beyond giving judgment on disputes and overseeing the treasury. Because Shrewd was ill and Verity kept himself locked away, the various powers of the court would naturally seek Regal's guidance and favour next. Yes, Kettricken's presence would need to grow. She would need to be respected.

_The leader's mate should be strong,_ Nighteyes agreed. _A good hunter and fast._

He was not far off. In a time of war, the people would naturally desire a strong and confident leader. I shook my head at how Verity's quiet efforts wielding the Skill against the raiders were actually turning the people against him. Perhaps if he showed me more of the sort of work he did with the Skill, I would be able to relieve him of that duty so that he would be able to spend more time amongst his people and reassuring them of his dedication.

I resolved that I would put myself wholeheartedly to the task of learning whatever I could from Verity. A traitorous thought intruded. What about Molly? Had I not resolved the night before that I would give all my effort to becoming the man that she needed for her husband? There was no reason why I could not do both, I frowned to myself. But if I took on Verity's tasks, defending the coasts with use of the Skill, would I be able to complete my own job rooting out the traitor that was revealing our secrets to the Outislanders? Surely that was important as well, and would make Verity's job much easier. I shook my head. Many roles indeed.

But Verity would not teach me yet, and I could not safely go to Molly until that evening. I decided that I would go to town to buy her a gift, and while I was there, I would listen for any helpful gossip.

The autumn air was chill, and I could feel that winter would soon be upon us. A good thing, because it would mean a brief respite from the raiders. It would likely be a winter of famine for many coastal towns, though. Grain and livestock were being transported from the inland duchies for storage, and we were buying what we could from the Bingtown traders as well, from what I could recall from Verity's meeting with the Treasurer. Still, it meant a drain on our finances and heavy taxes for all. I jingled the coins in my purse, wondering what gift I would be able to afford.

The town was a dreary place that day. Few people were about, but those that were moved in hushed groups and shopkeepers kept a suspicious eye on their patrons. I felt nervous under the scrutiny of one rather large fellow as I examined the fabric that he had for sale. I left without buying anything.

_You could bring her a nice, fat hare._ Nighteyes suggested.

Perhaps she would appreciate something good to eat, I thought, but I could always beg something from Cook Sara, and I felt the urge to give her something more permanent. Something that she could keep for always, not something that would be enjoyed and then gone within the night.

_Always is ridiculous,_ thought Nigtheyes. _Why gift her with a thing of no use? Meat is life, brother. Hunt with me tonight and we could run down a deer. A fine offering. Lots of meat to share._

_I cannot hunt with you tonight, Nighteyes. I have things I must do._

_Hah. Always you busy yourself with the doings of men. How can that world compare to the hunt? Running, eating, being. Are we not pack?_

_I will join you some day soon. We are pack. I haven't forgotten._

The day was cold for me, who had neither warm fur nor a den to curl up in. I regretted not wearing my cloak as I trudged from vendor to vendor. I bought some fine dried herbs and oils for Molly to use to scent her candles from a gaunt woman who looked at the handful of coppers I had given her as though they were gold. After a thought, I bought some healing herbs from her as well. The Fool would need something for his cuts and bruises, I thought, and Burrich would ask questions if I came to him for them.

But it wasn't enough. I sighed as I paused to think, leaning against a tree. I wanted Molly to know the depth of my love for her. To know that I spoke truth when I named her my wife. I could not give her my life, not with so many duties resting upon me at the keep, but I wanted to give her something. But, was I being too arrogant in thinking that my presence at Buckkeep was somehow important? Chade had his network of spies and informants, Kettricken was already skilled at politics and could learn our ways in time, and what sort of confidante was I to Verity, who was twice my age and bore infinitely more responsibility? I simultaneously felt as though I had too much to do and as though I did nothing of importance at all.

My spirits having wilted, I continued halfheartedly searching for a gift for Molly, but I soon gave it up. Nothing I could give her would mend the injury that I did her by not placing her above by duties to the Six Duchies, and nothing that I did for the Six Duchies seemed at all significant. Feeling hopeless and useless, I finally turned back to the keep.

I should have been happier to see the Fool, when he appeared suddenly from behind a bush and fell into step beside me as though he had been there all along. I had not seen him at all the day before and it was likely that he had been nursing his wounds in private. He did not seem too poorly, though he moved more gingerly than he usually did, mindful of the wound on his abdomen. Without thinking, I reached over and pushed aside a swath of his fine, airy hair to examine his neck. He stopped walking to goggle at me and I took the chance to look at his eyes. A bit red, still, and the bruises beneath his ears would take some time to fade. My scrutiny must have embarrassed him, because his white skin took on a rosy blush. Absently, I noticed that his hair was as soft as a rabbit's fur. He batted my hand away and took a step back, huffing.

”Really, Fitzy. There is a time and a place.”

We continued walking. “Why were you hiding in the bushes?”

”My little secret.”

”Fine. If you were up to some secret business, why are you following me now?”

”Whoever said that you were not my business, Fitzy-Fitz?”

”Were you waiting for me?”

”Don't flatter yourself. You are but one of many individuals in the world, if slightly more influential than the rest.”

He was in a mood. “Very well, then.” I said no more, continuing to walk in silence.

The Fool followed along, and I wondered how long it would take for him to feel tempted to fill the silence. It did not take long. “Did you see our dear kingling today?”

”I did. I noticed that you've been visiting him too. To what end? He does nothing but Skill.” Privately, I thought that the Fool's presence would be more irritating than cheering to Verity, since the man preferred quiet and isolation while he Skilled.

The Fool tutted, perhaps having seen through to my thoughts. “Only to be sure that he has not wasted away up in his tower. It would be such a shame.”

”You don't have to do that.”

”Don't I? Perhaps it is you who should do more. You have not been to see King Shrewd in some time.”

”You may nag all you like, Fool, but King Shrewd can summon me if he wishes to speak with me, and you should not distract King-in-Waiting Verity while he Skills.” I decided to be blunt.

”Everyone could do with some distraction, my dear Fitz. Even our kingling. The Skill wastes him away.”

”And the raiders lay to waste our coasts. His Skilling has been keeping our people safe.”

”Has it?”

I glared. “Do you doubt it?”

”Do you not? The Skill calls to him and he answers. He is a swimmer who dips his toes into the water, becoming accustomed to its temperature and flow. Call him out, and he must begin again with the toes. Allow him to continue, and gradually he will submerge himself.”

I did not follow, but I thought that I caught his meaning. “So you distract him deliberately. Sabotaging a defense of our coast could be seen as an act of treason.”

”The defense of our King-in-Waiting is not treason.” The Fool looked offended. “There are dangers in the Skill magic.”

”What would you know of the Skill?” I did not care that I had offended the Fool.

”Very little,” the Fool confessed. “But I know something of men.”

I shook my head. “Leave Verity alone, Fool. You may think that you're helping, but you aren't.”

The Fool hummed noncommittally.

”Fool.”

”Fitz.” The Fool mimicked my tone. “I know that you do not see all at present, but if anything, it is your ignorance that is treason.”

Irritated beyond my tolerance, I wrenched the other boy around by the arm and hardened my heart when he hissed in pain and clutched at his middle. “If you have no purpose with me other than to insult me, then go. I am in no mood to be the butt of your jokes.”

The Fool straightened up and looked at me defiantly. I believed that he would retort, for his expression was one of frustration and hurt, but then he shuttered himself off and his expression was replaced by a grin, “Ah, but you're so good at it, Fitzy!” He startled me by pulling free of my grip with surprising strength, and then dashed ahead of me by several paces. He spun around and looked back at me haughtily. “If we must proceed separately, then you may follow.” With that, he faced forward once more and began to walk with an exaggerated swagger and his nose in the air back towards the keep.

Capable of no reaction other than to shake my head in exasperation, I trudged along behind the madman. Our relative distance and his demeanor made it appear as though I were his reluctant servant, and whenever I slowed to put more distance between us, he slowed as well. If I ran, I did not think that he would be able to keep up with his injury, but I did not want to tempt him into trying, and so I resigned myself to a long walk.


	10. Nagging Thoughts

It was not because I was worried that I had spent some good portion of my evening recalling to my mind Burrich's recipes for a tincture that soothed bruises and a lotion that would keep infection away and speeded healing. It was not because I regretted my rough treatment of him that I then made those things and bore them up to the Fool's room in the tower at an hour when most were abed. An hour when Molly would be thinking of me. I told this to myself with false conviction.

The men at the gatehouse had chuckled at me with sympathy in their eyes when I trudged through the gate a few steps behind the Fool. Their sympathy did little to soothe my irritation. It was only when we'd entered the keep and many had been given the opportunity to view my humiliation that the Fool left me. He dropped the act like a man shedding an oilskin and then walked away from me without a backward glance, so I glared at his retreating back. If he had some secret business to attend to, I had seen no sign of it. It appeared that his only purpose had been to insult, annoy, and then humiliate me. For a boy who claimed to be my friend, he did seem to spend an inappropriate amount of time making me miserable.

I got my lunch from Cook Sara after stowing away my purchases, choosing to hide in the kitchens rather than face the nobility in the Great Hall or the men at arms. She was sympathetic and listened to me complain with appropriate hums in the right places and nods of the head while she stretched and rolled bits of dough. Pastries were her favourite to do, and she refused to push the work of them onto anyone else.

”He's an unnatural creature,” Cook Sara said, knowingly. “Never understood why King Shrewd took such an interest in him, for there's no shortage of tumblers, minstrels, or natural fools. Still, it was his will. Never mind that he frightens one half of the keep, and angers the other.”

Hearing her words made me feel a bit badly for my own complaints, but it was good to have an ear to hear me out. I poked at a dumpling, speared it with my knife, and ate it. They were fat, greasy, and chewy, and not even my bad temper could cause me to turn my nose up at Cook Sara's food. “He isn't very tactful, no. I don't understand why he insists on making me the butt of his jokes again and again. He said that we were friends.”

Cool Sara clucked her tongue. “You're a good boy, Fitz, dear. If he's so awful to you, perhaps you ought to keep your distance for a time.”

”I could...” I sighed and my anger deflated. I was only irritated at him for his jest, but truthfully I liked the Fool. If he was as unlikeable a person as Cook Sara said, what did it say about me that I took him as a friend? Nameless the dog-boy, and the jester. We probably seemed a pathetic lot. Still, I had seen the Fool nurse King Shrewd, and he had spent days watching over me during my black mood. He was kind, and he took genuine pleasure in entertaining the younger children of the keep. He had embarrassed me, to be sure, but had I not also hurt him? I shook my head and ate another dumpling.

The remainder of my irritation dissipated with time, and by afternoon, it had morphed into a nagging unease. I did not agree with the Fool's opinion on Verity's Skilling, but it was true that the Skill wasted him and called to him at all hours. Kettricken had complained that Verity often eschewed warming her bed in favour of spending the night-time hours Skilling in his cold tower. Still, it was for a defense of the kingdom. I brooded on the matter while I stalked the Skillmaster's quarters, and those thoughts kept me from the darker ones that were associated with Galen's memory. They were not pleasant ones, and I found that I was less prepared than I thought that I had been for the idea of going through his quarters. Serene had taken them over since his death, but she had become so like him in the months since then, that I could not think of the rooms as hers. I wondered privately whether he could have used some trick of the Skill to live on inside of her and then shook the thought promptly from my mind. It was too disturbing to contemplate. To my irritation, it seemed that I would need to spend some time inconspicuously monitoring the girl's schedule. I could not spend long at the task without drawing attention to myself, and so I resolved to volunteer myself for some job that would give me reason to walk past her quarters in the coming days. Since the other coterie members had returned to Buckkeep, searching their quarters would also prove challenging, but not impossible.

My unease grew so that I was distracted when I called on Lady Patience. It seemed that I had truly hurt the Fool, both physically and emotionally when I lost my temper. It was not a serious thing, I did not think, but the way that he closed himself off from me disturbed me. If I apologized, would he accept it or turn it into some jest? It was so difficult to get him to speak frankly. Lady Patience and I spent some time hanging herbs to dry, but I was unable to contribute very fully to conversation while my thoughts were busy. She prattled on as usual, and I doubt that she would have noticed my distraction had she not chosen that day to quiz me on the various plants that she thought I should know. I did not do very well, and the lesson ended with her shaking her head at me.

”Really, I don't understand it. It won't do for me to try to teach you and have it all bounce off. Lacy, does Tom seem distracted to you?”

”He does, dear.” Lacy confirmed.

”There now, Lacy agrees with me. You're distracted.” She fixed me with an expectant frown, and I wondered exactly what she wanted from me.

”Er... I apologize.”

”No, no!” Lady Patience reprimanded. “That won't solve anything, you silly boy. What is it that's making you sigh and dream like that?”

I chewed my lip. “Well,” I began hesitantly, “I've had a fight with someone, I think. Not a big one. It's just that I was in a foul mood and I spoke harshly when I shouldn't have, and it seems perhaps that I took some words the wrong way. I was wondering about apologizing.”

Patience huffed at me. “Boys... I don't know what goes on in your heads. I understand your reluctance to give a name, I do, but I think that I know what this is about. Really, I should be glad, because your association... Well. Have you given thought to ending it? Gently, I mean.”

I sighed and took a seat on a stool, shaking my head. Gossip travelled quickly in the keep, and I was surprised but not disbelieving that Patience would have heard of my dispute with the Fool. “I cannot. I just want to make things right again. If I apologized, do you suppose it would be accepted?”

”Well, I can't imagine that it wouldn't be... This unnamed person is unaccountably fond of you, you realize? But if you feel you've done wrong, then it would be best to apologize as quickly as possible.”

”Should I bring a gift?”

”You could, but no-one likes to feel as though they are being bought and kept. That only builds resentment over time. If you feel the need to, I suppose that something thoughtful would not go too badly. It will be your words that count the most, of course. You should be sure to say something kind and explain clearly how you feel.”

I nodded, “Thank you, I suppose that I'll do that.”

”I hope you're considering your actions well, Tom. You're a lovely boy, but it's best not to let your emotions get all in the way of your head. A little bit of both is best, I think.”

”Yes, Lady Patience. Thank you.”

And so I made up the lotion and the tincture, using some of the supplies that I kept with me in my room for such purposes. That was the easiest part, since I had already bought the herbs and had forgotten to give them to the Fool in my anger. The hardest part was the apology itself, and I had still not worked one out by the time I reached the Fool's door. I set my candle down in the wall sconce, took a deep breath and knocked.

Silence.

I knocked again, and then realized that he would have had no reason to expect anyone to call on him. He could be asleep or tending to King Shrewd. I frowned at the realization that my trip may have been useless, feeling like an idiot. As I was considering whether or not to leave the gift on the floor and go, the door opened and the Fool blinked at me bleary eyed.

He wore no face paint, and he had only a nightshirt on. I think that it was strangest for me to see him without any shoes. With none of his usual costume and with the darkness of the night, he was a creature all of whites and greys, and he could have passed for a spectre. His colourless eyes were eerie in the candlelight. I realized that I was staring and spoke.

”I woke you.”

The Fool blinked slowly. “Did you? Do I not still dream?”

”I don't think so,” I answered. “I'm sorry. I brought you some things for your injuries. I bought herbs for you earlier, but I forgot to give them to you, and so I thought that I should make them into something you could use right away. They're Burrich's recipes.”

”Oh,” the Fool stared at me, looking dazed. Remembering Patience's advice, I continued.

”I wanted to apologize for my harshness earlier. I was in a poor mood, but I shouldn't have lost my temper with you...” Recalling Patience's advice to say something kind and to speak honestly about my feelings I continued, “You're a good person. I know that you would not deliberately do harm to Verity or to our defenses. I'm grateful for your friendship, and I realized that I don't demonstrate that very often. I am, though. I was upset when you embarrassed me earlier, but I understand why you did. Er, so, what I wanted to say was that I'm sorry, Fool.”

The Fool was all light and shadow, standing there in the doorway of his chamber. He was an otherworldly creature indeed, I noticed. His chamber was high up in a tower, up several seldom-used staircases and far removed from the rest of the keep. Once I'd finished speaking, the only sound in the stillness was our breathing. The quiet held for some moments, and I grew nervous wondering how the Fool would respond.

The Fool was as still as though he were carved from stone, and then he brought a hand up to his mouth and laughed. The sound was a very different one from the mocking cackle that he punctuated a particularly biting jest with. His eyes crinkled and his shoulders shook. I felt my face heat with embarrassment and I scowled. I hadn't apologized for his amusement. Though I had known that the possibility was there for him to make a jest of my words, I had not expected him to laugh in my face. His reaction stung, especially so since I had spoken sincerely. I shoved the tincture and the balm into his chest, forcing him to catch them and then turned to go.

”Wait!” The Fool called as I felt his hand grasp my arm, its warmth seeping through my shirt in contrast to the chill of the castle. His voice echoed sharply and loudly in the night's quiet, but in this old part of the castle, no-one save us would hear it. He did not pull me back, and I could have broken his grip on me easily, but I halted to hear what he would say. He didn't release my arm, but he neither came closer nor forced me to turn to face him. “Thank you,” he said simply. “I did not intend to give any offence, really I didn't. You surprised me, that's all. I still find it hard to tell whether or not this is a dream.”

”I surprised you and so you laughed at me,” I grumbled.

”Will you accept the apology of a most humble Fool? I am grateful for your words and for the gifts, thank you.”

”You're welcome.” I turned to face the other boy at last, finding it strange to converse without seeing him. “Is... Are we no longer quarreling then?”

”No, no I don't think so, Fitz.”

”Good,” I said, then frowned. My friend's expression was still dazed and something nagged at me. The Fool had felt normal to me when I had touched him earlier in the afternoon, and his hand had been warm just moments ago as well, but that was actually atypical for the strange boy. Most people feared to touch him, for his skin was as white and cold as death. Oh. “You have a fever, don't you?” I asked.

He batted my hand away and took a step backward when I reached forward to touch his brow. “A bit. It isn't serious.”

”It could be if it gets worse. Let me see if your wound is infected. You might need something other than what I brought.” I looked at him expectantly, but he simply stared back. “It would be easier if we went into your room,” I said.

”Yes, but no,” refused the Fool, curtly. “My kind is less troubled by these things than yours, I think. You needn't concern yourself. Thank you for the apology. You are forgiven. Good night.”

And then I was alone. The Fool retreated into his room and shut the door. I heard the latch slide into place and sighed. Well, I had done what I'd come to do. I retrieved my candle and began the long walk back to my own chamber.

The Fool was an odd creature, that I could say with certainty. I could understand very well why Cook Sara, Molly, and the other people of the keep would be fearful of him. It was the tendency of many species to reject any members who were too different from the rest. Even I had been cautious of him at first, and I was not sure when the Fool and I had become friends. It had been a gradual process, to be sure, because I could not pinpoint a single moment in time. I felt a lightness of heart now that I had apologized to him, and the unease that had haunted me throughout the day dissipated.

There was a draft when I opened the door, and my candle nearly went out. The secret passageway to Chade's quarters was open and I looked longingly at my bed. There would be very little rest for me that night. Sighing, I trudged up the stairs.

”You took your time,” Chade remarked, and then looked me up and down. “Where have you been? You were not with your Molly.”

I did not want to know how he knew. “No, I was with the Fool,” I explained, joining him over by his workbench. The old man was crushing dried herbs. At his inquiring lift of the eyebrow, I elaborated. “We had a disagreement earlier today, and I thought that I should apologize. Somehow it ended up this late.”

”Report, boy. You know better than to start a tale in the middle. I've trained you far better than that.”

And so I told Chade of my day. I did not see what use he could get out of hearing the unremarkable tale, but I told it as thoroughly as though it had been a spying exercise. I felt a bit sorry for Chade, stuck as he was in his quarters. The only time I knew him to have ventured out, he had been disguised as Lady Thyme. He had visited King Shrewd, if what I had seem in my dream had been correct, but King Shrewd's mind wandered and he was hardly company. If I could give the old man a glimpse of the world through my reports, I was glad to do so. My only omission was Nighteyes. “... he said that it was my ignorance that was treason, and so I lost my temper and ended up hurting him. He retaliated by embarrassing me, as usual. When I complained of it to Cook Sara, the way that she spoke of him made me understand that he isn't very well liked by the rest of the keep.”

”No, I suppose that he wouldn't be. I find him rather unnerving myself,” Chade said. “My brother would not be reasoned with, of course.”

I continued my tale while tapping a portion of crushed leaves into a jar. Chade hummed approvingly when I told him of my plans to monitor Serene's quarters and chuckled for some reason when I described Patience's advice to me, but I ignored him. By the time I had finished, our task was done and we washed our hands before moving to the comfortable side of the room. Chade sat in his chair while I boiled water for tea and then sat on the floor in my usual place.

”You were right to scold the Fool for distracting Prince Verity while he Skills,” Chade commented. “You believe that he is doing so deliberately. Can you think of any reason beyond misguided kindness that he would do so?”

I shook my head, “I cannot. I think that he truly believes he is protecting Verity from something. He did take the trouble of delivering his meals when I could not, and he brings in fresh flowers. Whatever tea the Fool has been giving him seems to have revived him somewhat. I think that he cares in his own way.”

”Tea?” Chade asked, sharply.

”Yes, with his breakfast. The Fool had changed it one morning when I was late and it's been the same since. I could smell nothing odd,” I hastened to add, understanding Chade's concern.

Chade was not reassured. “If you paid any attention at all to my teachings, you would know that some of the most potent of our tools are tasteless or easily disguised by flavoured things such as tea, wine, or soups. You are letting your feelings of friendship get the better of you. You see some strange concoction being served to the King-in-Waiting and you do nothing?”

I bristled, not recalling exactly what had distracted me from inspecting the tea further. It was true that I could have been more vigilant but, “I did smell it, “ I defended myself. “Besides, it has been months since then and Verity has seemed healthier, if anything.”

”Foolish, foolish boy. Need I remind you that we suspect a traitor in the keep?”

”Not the Fool,” I frowned, feeling insulted. “And if there was someone suspicious in the kitchens, I know that your spies would have told you by now.”

”Nevertheless, you will be more careful in the future. You have thankfully saved our King-in-Waiting from one unfortunate incident, but it was a fluke. If our traitor becomes bold enough to move on from selling secrets to committing murder, I would prefer it if we did not simply invite them to do it without so much as a second glance.”

I fumed, keeping my silence despite my feelings that the scolding was unjust. I would have noticed anything amiss, and the Fool was harmless, if a bit eccentric. He was not a traitor, no matter what I had accused him of in anger.

”Well? Do you understand, boy?” Chade's tone was harsh.

”Yes, Chade,” I said.

After all, the Fool was almost comically loyal to King Shrewd. He had even slept at the ailing man's bedside, if my dream were true. He visited Verity and he seemed to get along with Kettricken as well. He took every opportunity that presented itself to mock Regal, which did not make him loyal to the Farseers in a technical sense, but did in my regard. He was certainly strange, but he was the last person that I would suspect of treason.

But.

I opened my mouth, but shut it again. I wanted to ask Chade if it was true that the Fool had listened to him reporting to his brother, if it happened often, but I denied the thought as soon as I had it. It was simply Chade's paranoia taking root in my own mind. He'd trained me to be suspicious of everything. I knew that if I indulged that part of my mind, though, that Chade would take hold of the subject like a dog with a bone. There was no need to add fuel to the fire. Especially when I was sure that it was nothing.

Still, when I finally went to my bed in the early hours of the morning, I found that I was still troubled by thoughts of the Fool.


	11. Awkward Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of my readers. You've been very patient and your encouragement has made me incredibly happy!

Morning came all too early. It was in the state half-way between sleep and wakefulness that I brought Verity his breakfast. The flower in the tiny vase was wilting, and for some reason it bothered me, so I brought it down with me to dispose of it. I was nodding off over my porridge in the kitchen, and I was bleary eyed as I made my way back to my chamber, having decided to go back to sleep. I would have been useless at any of my other tasks otherwise.

Once I lay down beneath my soft blanket and shut my eyes, however, I found that I was unable to sleep. Frustrated, I rolled onto my side, keeping my eyes stubbornly closed. I knew what was bothering me, and I knew that I would have no rest until I thought it through properly. I decided to be objective, and I laid out the facts in my mind.

The Fool had given Verity a strange tea. It did not seem to be harmful.

The Fool had overheard Chade reporting to King Shrewd.

The Fool had stolen scrolls that Verity had given me from my room, and given them to Kettricken.

The Fool had grown close with Kettricken.

The Fool knew, somehow, that I was an assassin.

The Fool had known that I was spying on Merryhew.

The Fool seemed to have predicted that I would be poisoned in the mountains.

The Fool was my friend.

I rolled over in my bed and stared at the wall. I now had a pile of facts, but would I be able to analyze them objectively? I knew that I should confide in Chade, but I hoped that I was wrong, and I did not want to alarm the old man for nothing. If the Fool was indeed a spy, then I needed proof, not worries.

But the Fool was an intensely private creature, and intelligent. If I delayed, and he was responsible for the revelation of our information to the Outislanders, then I could be costing people their lives. If I accused the Fool without evidence, and was mistaken, then our friendship would doubtless be damaged.

Our friendship. I had often wondered what had caused the Fool to take an interest in the Farseer bastard, nameless-the-dog-boy. He had said something long ago about catalysts and fate, but it had been confusing. It had not seemed like his usual smoke screen of nonsense, though. The Fool had never spoken more passionately nor more seriously to me before. At the heart of those words, I felt that I would find a way to understand the mysterious Fool. Unfortunately, they eluded my understanding.

There was the possibility that he had befriended me in order to gain some information. The thought was like a lump of ice in my belly, and I held my breath. Had all of the Fool's many kindnesses been no more than a front? An illusion to gain my confidence? And like a fool myself, I had not even thought to question it. I felt sick. Despite myself, I had been touched when the Fool had spent days by my bedside, coaxing me gently from my dark mood. I should have known that it could not have been genuine. Absurd to think that another human being could have desired my company in such an uncomplicated way. I had allowed myself that warm comfort. Without even being aware of it, I had allowed the Fool to seep into my very being. _Pack._ Nighteyes offered. I hated that I had been so trusting. The stinging of my palms alerted me to the fact that I had clenched my fists, and I deliberately relaxed them.

I did not have proof yet, I told myself. It did not soothe me. As I approached my list of facts again, I found that I could not think of them without feeling the burn of betrayal. I could not be objective. I did not tell the Fool anything of importance, and the scrolls he could have stolen from Verity. It was illogical to think that the Fool could be a traitor, but doubt had been planted in my mind and it ate at me. Suddenly, I wanted to run with Nighteyes. I wanted to take Molly in my arms and hold her so that she could never leave.

Proof. I needed to find proof, one way or the other. If I found nothing to indicate that he was the spy, then I could be relieved. If I found something, then I would report it to Chade. Let him deal with it. The thought of being correct in my suspicions was a devastating one. I did not think that I could bear it.

I succeeded in finding some rest eventually, though I could not take the credit for it. In sleep, I was given more peace than I'd had in days. My mind fought desperately to cling onto its worries, but the feeling of Nighteyes' mind within mine was persistently soothing. Through our witbond, I could feel the radiating warmth and safety of his mind. It enveloped me and stubbornly snarled at my concerns. At last, I relented and fell into sleep. In my dream, I was with Nighteyes, and we were sated from a successful night of hunting. The taste of blood still lingered in our mouths, and our bellies were full. We curled up in our den, content. _Pack._

When I woke, it was with abrupt alertness, and I blinked up at the ceiling, feeling clear headed and rested. The light from the windows had shifted, telling me that it was likely already afternoon. I rose from my bed and stretched, then washed my face in the wash basin. While I did those things, I kept my mind carefully blank, focusing instead on each task as completely as I could. Deciding to put a bit more effort in that day, I brushed out my stubborn hair and tied it back neatly. I shaved, cutting myself only a few times, and I put on a clean shirt.

As I approached my door, I sighed to myself and rested my head on the wood. Slowly, I allowed the careful blankness to fade. The restful state that I had achieved with Nighteyes fell away piece by piece. I breathed, setting in order the tasks that I would attempt to accomplish that day. I would call on Kettricken first, and then I would call on Lady Patience to thank her for her advice. As the evening meal approached, I would stalk the Skilled Ones' quarters. I was not sure what to do about the Fool. If he caught me in some subterfuge, our friendship would be damaged. If I asked him outright, the result would be the same. I would simply have to avoid being caught. 

I met with the Fool sooner than I had anticipated. As I ascended the stairs to the Queen's Garden, I encountered little Rosemary bearing a tray with two cups and a pot of tea. It looked very heavy in her tiny arms and I took the steps two at a time until I caught up. I smiled down at her. “Hello, Rosemary. I'm going in the same direction. May I offer you some assistance?”

The girl shook her head and continued to mount each step with great concentration. “No, thank you,” she refused bluntly.

I did not correct her manners. Her pace was slow, but I did not wish to interfere with her progress by passing her in the narrow stair, and so we ascended together slowly. Had the Queen somehow anticipated my visit and ordered for tea to be brought up? There were not enough cups nor enough tea for her ladies to enjoy as well. It was only a mystery until we emerged into the tower-top garden and I saw the Fool sitting together with Kettricken. They were sitting on the ground, heedless of decorum. Their heads were bent closely together, and they appeared to be deep in conversation. While Kettricken's colouring appeared richer and more vibrant in the sunlight, the Fool was as colourless as ever. Their hair was nearly mingling. I narrowed my eyes.

Rosemary toddled over, hesitated, and then set the tea on a table a small distance away. I cleared my throat, and the two looked up at me with wide, startled eyes. “Pardon the interruption,” I said formally, “Should I return later?”

Kettricken smiled graciously. “Oh, FitzChivalry, my friend. You are always welcome here. Won't you join us?”

I nodded stiffly and joined them on the ground. The Fool slid himself back so that the three of us formed a triangle. “You seem to have grown quite close,” I commented.

Kettricken nodded, “So it seems. Both of us being foreign to the Six Duchies, we have found much common ground. I have been grateful for his friendship.”

I frowned and looked between them, “You should be more cautious. It isn't proper for a woman to be in the company of a man unchaperoned. Especially when that woman is the wife of the future king.”

To my annoyance, Kettricken laughed. “I am in no danger from the Fool. Surely you know that.”

I scowled. “Your ladies do not know that, neither does the rest of the keep. People will talk.”

”I am in no danger,” Kettricken repeated gently, “You must recall that I have been alone in your company as well.”

”I had not thought you to be so old-fashioned, Fitzy,” The Fool remarked.

I sighed, realizing that I was outnumbered and that I had begun the conversation poorly. The Fool's presence left me feeling wrong-footed. I suddenly could not think of a thing to say.

Rosemary saved me by arriving with the tea. She handed one cup to Kettricken and the other to the Fool, and then looked at me curiously, as though I were some outsider.

”Thank you, Rosemary,” Kettricken said.

”Yes, thank you,” said the Fool kindly. He then turned his pale eyes on me. “We could share if you like, Fitz?”

”No, thank you. I don't need any tea, Rosemary.” I smiled at her and she gave me a curtsey before she walked off to amuse herself.

The Fool sipped his tea and made a face, “Sweet tea from a sweet girl. She always adds a bit too much honey, but I haven't the heart to point it out.”

Kettricken laughed, “She's a child. Children are fond of sweet things. Perhaps she thought you would like it.”

The Fool nodded. “Are you sure you won't have some, Fitzy?”

”I'm fine, thank you.”

”So, what brought you here today, FitzChivalry?” Kettricken asked over her own cup.

”I had not called upon you these past two days. I wanted to thank you for your earlier support. King-in-Waiting Verity and I have mended our quarrel.”

”Those words bring me great cheer,” Kettricken's eyes crinkled. “I had hoped that would be the case. It pained me so to see you suffer because of his displeasure.”

”Well,” I said, “thank you for your kindness.” I glanced at the Fool, calmly balancing his tea cup on his palm. The quiet stretched awkwardly for a moment.

”It is nothing that you need thank me for at all,” Kettricken said, filling the silence. “The Fool was telling me that you quite bravely came to his aid not long ago. I regret to see that you still bear the marks of your injuries. To think that such violence could occur within the walls of the keep is... distressing.”

It was not by any means the only violent incident that had occurred within the walls of Buckkeep castle. I was reminded of my beating at Galen's hands and took a breath as I banished the memory. “I am told that young men can be foolish in that way,” I said.

The Fool huffed, “Foolish, no. Idiotic, yes.”

”Indeed,” I agreed. There was quiet again. The Fool blew at the steam that rose from his cup.

”You need not be so formal,” he said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “As you observed, it is only us here.”

”It's habit, I suppose,” I said.

The rest of our conversation was similarly awkward, and I left feeling as though I had been an intruder in their private world. Kettricken did her best to include me, but I was unable to relax completely. It was something I would need to remedy if I were to spy effectively upon the Fool. He too had seemed uncharacteristically nervous, though. Several times, I noticed his gaze on me only to have him look away abruptly. Did he suspect me?

Patience was the next on my list of people to visit that day. As I helped her with the sorting of some poor, small creature's bones I interrupted her rambling. “I thank you for your advice yesterday, Lady Patience.”

“Well! I suppose you're welcome, Tom. Though I'm sorry to say that it did not seem to do you a bit of good.” Patience said, blinking and looking a bit flustered. 

”I'm sorry?”

”You did remember to say something kind, didn't you? I know that you don't always have the best way with words... Boys can be so clumsy with these things.”

”Excuse me? I... Well, I thought that it had gone well.”

”It's just that Molly was looking so terribly gloomy today, I thought that perhaps you'd forgotten or made a mess of it somehow,” Patience shook her head.

”Molly?” I was confused. “I was apologizing to the Fool.”

”Oh!” Patience's eyebrows shot up. “You mean... Well.”

”Um.” I blinked at her.

Patience shook out her skirts and turned back to her small pile of bones. “Dear me,” she said.

”We had an argument on the way back to the keep,” I explained. “I apologized as you recommended, and it seemed to have gone well.”

”Well, that's good, dear. I'm glad. I had simply assumed...”

”Is Molly upset with me? I asked.

”I'm sure that I couldn't say!”

I shook my head at the bizarre turn the conversation had taken. “Well, thank you anyway. There are few people of whom I can ask advice on such matters.”

There was quiet for a moment, a rare thing in Patience's quarters. I looked up and watched as her brows drew together and her lips turned down. “Oh, Tom...” Suddenly she was up and off of her stool, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “Oh, Tom. You should have been mine.”

Startled, I sat there and allowed her to embrace me. I sought out Lacy's gaze for some clue as to how to respond, but she simply raised her eyebrows at me as if to say I'd brought it on myself and to do something about it. Awkwardly, I patted my father's wife on the shoulder.

Patience sniffled, “I was just so angry, so bitter that I could not have given Chivalry a son. Withywoods was a fine place for a boy. You could have had us both, and Lacy, and all of the staff besides.”

”Um. I apologize for upsetting you, Lady Patience.” I patted her again. I understood that her words were not intended that way, but I could not help but feel again as though my birth had destroyed the woman's happiness.

Patience continued to weep, and eventually Lacy came to lead her to her bed. She took her time, and I thought that perhaps she had been expecting me to do something. Whatever I was supposed to have done, I did not know. I was shooed out and could not help but feel as though I'd failed. I did not want to have to apologize for my existence, though, and I did not know what else I could offer.

I had not spent many hours awake that day, but I felt weary. At every turn, it seemed that my very presence was an unwelcome intrusion. I reached out for Nighteyes, and felt his comforting presence.

_You humans complicate things so, brother. Far better to be a wolf._

_I know. Some times I think you're right._

_I am right,_ Nighteyes said. I had an image of his tongue lolling.

_Well, I am not a wolf. I am a human, and unfortunately I must put up with it._

_Human or wolf, you are Changer either way,_ he said. _But your human hands are good for scratching behind my ears._

I was amused and I decided that I could use some comfortable companionship. _I'll come and do that, then. If I walk out to the woods, will you find me?_

_Before you find me,_ Nighteyes said, smugly. _Your human nose is useless._

And so I went out. The air was cooling, but it was not unpleasant. As I went further and further into the woods, I kept my every sense alert, but I was still surprised when Nighteyes sprang from the bushes to knock me to the ground, his forepaws crashing heavily into my chest. I landed with a great thump, laughing. I made to grab him and pin him down, but he sprang away from me and flicked his tail, teeth bared in a wolfish grin. I scrambled to my feet and gave chase.

In that time, I revelled in my enjoyment of our simple and carefree bond. I threw myself into it and was received with joy. If my one true companion in life was to be Nighteyes, then that was fine. All of the humans in my life had disappointed me. My mother had abandoned me. My father had given up his throne rather than acknowledge me. Chade had tested my loyalty by asking me to steal from King Shrewd. Molly asked for more than I could give. Burrich could not stand my wit. Nighteyes was the only one to accept every part of me without question. I had thought that the Fool, perhaps, had done the same. I did not worry about him in the time I spent with Nighteyes, though. It would not be bad to be a wolf, I thought, if it meant living as cleanly as that. To leave all of my human cares behind for a time.

_Just be, Changer._ Nighteyes said. _Hunt, eat, sleep, and live._

_Yes,_ I thought. And we shared the evening hunt, running with one mind.


	12. Trespass

Regal's plans from several days prior came to fruition sooner than I had anticipated. Had I been paying more attention to the talk of the keep, perhaps I would not have been caught unaware. Chade would have scolded me for such a lapse. Regal was hosting lavish parties at the slightest provocation and I could hardly be expected to keep track of them all, I thought. The kitchens were busier than ever when I collected Verity's tray, and when I hazarded asking Cook Sara what the occasion was, she threw down a lump of dough and tutted. “I'm surprised you haven't heard! Prince Regal is hosting a ball, he is, in honour of the coming winter and the peace it'll bring our shores. I heard that he's got no less than seven minstrels coming. Now out with you, lad, I'm up to my elbows in work and I haven't the time to chat today.”

Well, it wasn't unlike Regal to have kept his unwanted bastard nephew uninformed. The news of the ball pleased me not for any enjoyment of such pass times, but because of the opportunity it granted me. Large gatherings were excellent times for assassins. Tainting a platter of food to make the unwary party-goers ill could disguise a more serious poisoning or two if the symptoms were similar. Drink was plentiful, so tongues were freer. They also provided access to nobility who may be from another duchy all together and ordinarily require special planning to visit. Gossip flowed as freely as spirits at such gatherings. More importantly for my current purposes, attendance for at least part of the night was generally required of all people of note within the keep. As it was to be a celebration of the coming winter's peace, I was optimistic that the Skilled ones would be in attendance. They had, after all, ostensibly contributed their valuable talents to aid the Six Duchies against the Red Ship Raiders.

I paid a visit to Kettricken. She was in her quarters, sitting quietly in meditation when I was granted entrance by Rosemary. Accustomed to her practices, I made myself comfortable on a cushion and waited. The room was more sparsely furnished than would be expected of the Queen-in-Waiting's sitting room, but still was more lavish than her mountain upbringing would have allowed. So, it was a compromise between the two cultures. I saw her influence in the nature-focused themes of her tapestries and ornaments, and in the cushions that we sat upon. The room smelled of her: honeywood and mountainsweet. It was not long before Kettricken took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and opened her eyes. She smiled.

”FitzChivalry! I sensed that you'd arrived. What brings you here at this early hour?”

”Pardon the interruption, Kettricken,” I said, aware that I'd entered at a time when she usually preferred to be alone.

“Not at all! It is always a great pleasure to see you. I still feel great relief that you and my husband have made amends. But you seemed strange yesterday. Does anything trouble you?” The Queen-in-Waiting smiled with easy acceptance, acknowledging but soothing my concern, and then directing the conversation. I noticed that though her kindness remained unchanged, her confidence seemed to have grown recently.

I would not share my concerns about the Fool with her. Still, I thought a moment as I considered whether or not I could safely ask questions of her regarding our mutual friend. She was not the sort of person to engage in idle gossip. She was driven to help people, though. If I could make her feel useful, then perhaps I could draw out some information. I bit my lip as though conflicted and then looked away.

”I apologize if I made things awkward for you. I suppose that I was a bit worried. It's a small matter, though, and you needn't trouble yourself.”

Kettricken's brows dipped in a frown and she leaned forward slightly on her cushion. “FitzChivalry, you must know that I do and will always consider you to be a cherished friend. No matter how small the issue, I assure you that it is important to me. If I may be of assistance, I happily offer it.”

I made a show of hesitating and squashed the guilt that rose in me for exploiting her good nature. I glanced at the earnest expression on her face and then spoke slowly, reluctantly. “I had a bit of a disagreement with the Fool the day before. I apologized, but I wasn't sure exactly how well it had been received. When I saw you together, I was not sure of my welcome.”

Kettricken's frown relaxed into a smile and she laughed prettily. “Oh, FitzChivalry. I would not like to break confidence, but I think it safe to tell you that you need not fear where it concerns the Fool's regard for you. He was just as troubled by his uncertainty of your affection, though I did my best to reassure him.”

That was interesting. Naive as it was, I had not supposed that they spoke about me. I put the thought aside for later pursuit. I let my shoulders relax, but met her gaze with some concern. “Are you certain? I thought that he'd been acting strangely lately, and I worried that I'd caused him to regret our friendship.”

Kettricken shook her head, her eyes sparkling. “Not at all. If anything, I think that he has become quite fond of you.”

I smiled in apparent relief. “That is good to hear. You two seem to have grown close as well.”

Kettricken nodded. “We have, indeed. As I mentioned, we are both foreign to this country and we spent some time at the beginning of our acquaintance comparing our impressions. It was greatly amusing! We've also found some common interests to discuss lately, and he has served as a second advisor in some of the ways of the court.” Kettricken paused and then added. “You need not worry so about my reputation, FitzChivalry. As I am mountain-borne, any oddness will likely be attributed to my culture.”

I bowed my head to that. “That is true for now. I think that I've come to be overly sensitive to these things, since I see it as my duty as your advisor to help you adjust to our ways.”

”That is understandable,” Kettricken smiled. She stretched and then rose. “Will you join me for breakfast?”

Rosemary was sent for our breakfast, and the two of us took seats at the table. “Will you be attending Prince Regal's ball this evening?” I asked, coming to the point of my visit.

”I will,” Kettricken confirmed with an unhappy sigh. “Though I cannot agree with such lavish behaviour in a time of such great need.”

I nodded my agreement. “Prince Regal does not seem to notice the waste or the drain that his spending is on the treasury. He is not wrong that the people will need some cheer after a hard summer, though, and our soldiers and sailors should be celebrated. The Skilled ones as well, for all of the effort that they've put in. You could suggest to Prince Regal that we open the ball to all those who fought for the Six Duchies.”

Kettricken brightened. “In the mountains, the festivities were always open to any who wished to join. It seems strange to me that we would celebrate the brave warriors in name, but entertain only the nobility. I will take that suggestion, FitzChivalry.”

My task completed, I spent the remainder of my time with Kettricken discussing matters of her choosing. Idle conversation with Kettricken was seldom the same sort of idle conversation that one might encounter in the washing courts or the kitchens. We passed our time discussing what might be done to help the coastal duchies through the winter, different methods for taxation, and the improvements that Kettricken saw in King Shrewd now that she'd taken to mixing his healing tonics. I suspected the Fool's influence there, and reluctantly admitted to myself that she was the sort of person he should be using to try to change the world, or whatever strange ideas he had. Kettricken was kind and compassionate, but she did not stop at feeling the pains and joys of those around her. She was passionate about taking action to better their lives. Verity could not have had a better mate for his Queen-in-Waiting.

I left Kettricken's company after we shared our simple breakfast. I could now reasonably expect the Skilled ones to be away from their chambers long enough for me to do my work going through their things. I felt badly for manipulating Kettricken so, but I comforted myself that it was for the greater good. I supposed that I could have explained my purposes to her. Kettricken had known my profession since before our first encounter. It was simpler this way, though, I thought, and now she could have the pleasure of improving upon Regal's ball.

I had also learned something of the Fool, though not much. I learned that he was acting as advisor in addition to friend to Kettricken, and that he talked to her about me. Whether that was for some sinister purpose or not, I was not certain. It was painful to hold such thoughts about someone whom I had considered to be a friend. Until that doubt was resolved, I would be unable to enjoy that friendship, though. There was ample time to spend before the ball began. Would I chance breaking into the Fool's chambers? That was a great risk, considering the Fool's uncanny knowledge. Perhaps I could convince the Fool to grant me entry if I were to exaggerate my concern for him, but I would get no spying done under his keen gaze. No, that was no good.

I settled for watching him at his work. Amid the bustle and chaos of the preparations for the party, the Fool was juggling. He had more brightly coloured balls, and he tossed them deftly while he got in the way of people moving tables and annoyed the servants who were sweeping away the old reeds. A few children were following him, giggling at his antics. I found an inconspicuous place to observe from, and I offered my assistance to a girl who was weaving bits of evergreen boughs into a garland. I scowled to myself when I saw Regal enter with his entourage. He peered down his nose at the servants and gestured irritatedly for things to be moved here or there, and for more candles to be brought in.

I was distracted by my glaring when there was a clatter, barely audible over the general chatter. The Fool's colourful balls had fallen and scattered, and the children were shrieking with delight as they scrambled to collect them. The jester leaned against one of the tables as though he might fall. He still had one of the balls clutched in one hand. I was not the only one to have noticed. Regal, with a sneer and then a smirk, strode over.

”What's this? Losing your touch? A useless Fool is soon out of a job, you'll find.” Regal said, kicking one of the balls away with a booted foot. “Then there'll be nothing for you but starving in the streets if you're lucky. Well? Go get it.” The prince took hold of the Fool by the back of the neck and shoved him in the direction the ball had gone. The Fool staggered and fell in a heap of limbs, with none of his usual grace. I winced in sympathy. It took effort to fight back my impulse to go to his aid, and I was already standing and half way across the hall before I succeeded. He could be a traitor, I reminded myself. I shouldn't let him know that I suspect, I argued. But could I confront Regal in full view of half the keep's servants? I stood still, hating myself.

The Fool recovered himself, and I could see him assessing the situation. Coming to the decision that few would dare, the Fool tossed the fallen ball at Regal's face and then scrambled to his feet, cackling over the cry of outrage and astonished laughter. The Fool fled, shouting triumphantly about having felled a fat goose. His shoulder knocked into me in passing. Whether or not he meant it as some rebuke for my cowardice, I accepted it without comment.

Guests began to arrive as the sun westered. Much as I hated the idea of participating in one of Regal's wasteful pageants, I washed my face and hands, dressed in one of my good sets of clothes, and proceeded down to the Great Hall. The jacket fit me rather more snugly than I liked in the shoulders, thanks to my time rowing aboard the Rurisk, but I wanted to look my part. The line stitched across the Farseer crest labelled me as a bastard, and those who spoke to me would most likely mark it. If it were ever questioned, there would be witnesses to my having been at the celebration.

The hall was filled with the roar of voices. Rumbling murmurs of groups clustered together were the current beneath waves of laughter and exclamations. The din was almost overwhelming. I mingled for a time, braving the crowds to join a group of aristocratic young men who seemed to be having a rather heated discussion. Rather than any serious matter such as the raiders or the forged ones, it turned out that they were debating the merits of one of Lord Ember's daughters. Trying to recall her face, stayed and laughed or shook my head at the appropriate times and then excused myself as soon as was reasonable, finding another group to join. While making myself visible, I also hoped to collect some gossip for Chade, who would surely be quizzing me on the evening's events later that night.

Bread, cheese, wine, ale, and fruits lined the tables, but when the dinner was brought in, an appreciative murmur rose through the crowds. Borne in by rows of servants, roasted chickens and fat geese, seasoned well with herbs and garlic were distributed among the tables. Warm and crusty rolls were given spots between the platters, and bowls heaped high with roasted potatoes came after. Savoury pies and great slices of pork appeared. Spots of colour were added by bowls of hot roasted vegetables, still fresh from harvest time. It was no wonder that Cook Sara had been busy.

As we all found seats at the tables, a fanfare blew and Queen-in-Waiting Kettricken stood up from her place at the high table. She waited for the murmur to quiet and then she spoke, her voice carrying clearly to the very last seat in the hall. Her mountain accent was evident, but she chose her words carefully and spoke them well.

”Good Six Duchies citizens, to see everyone assembled in such good cheer gives me heart! The long months of summer have been difficult ones for us all. I am glad to see that we have not lost our spirits. Today we gather to celebrate the coming of winter, and the peace she brings to our lands. For the coming months, we will be free to focus our energies on enjoying the bounties of our harvests and building up our forces to fight back the raiders in the coming year. 

“Today we also celebrate the warriors who bravely fought for us, both those living and dead, and the Skilled ones who daily use their magics at great cost to themselves in order to keep us safe. Their courage and their sacrifices have allowed us to be here today, and we owe them great thanks. Let us not forget that there are many less fortunate than ourselves, whose crops have been burnt and whose livestock have been butchered by the raiders. It is thanks to our soldiers that we enjoy the bounty that we do today. I could not sit down to such a bountiful feast without thinking of those who may go hungry this winter. The Six Duchies people must stand together, and so I have asked that more supplies be sent to those who have been most devastated by the raids. During the winter months, what guards we can spare will be sent to aid in the repairs.”

I glanced around myself to take in the reactions. No-one wanted to hear such dark talk at a feast. Sure enough, there were some glances exchanged and thinned lips. I saw Prince Regal rise from his seat and raise his glass. Kettricken looked over at him, wide-eyed at being interrupted.

Regal seemed to be trying to regain the enthusiasm of his guests. “Yes, and we are all very thankful to those brave soldiers! But now winter comes and we've all survived! Let us eat and drink and enjoy this respite from war and strife. Come, let's have the minstrels!”

Taking his prompt, the first group of performers began to play a jaunty tune. I watched as Kettricken and Regal resumed their seats. The prince soon turned to his companions and made some jest that sparked a bout of laughter. Kettricken seemed displeased, but was polite enough not to comment on Regal's rudeness. The high table was populated largely by Regal's honoured guests. King Shrewd was absent, and so was Verity. His absence disappointed me. If he'd been present, he could have lent support to his lady wife and Regal would not dared to have dismissed her so. It would have been good for him to have been seen amongst his people, too, I thought. Perhaps the Fool had not been entirely mistaken when he thought to interrupt Verity in his Skilling. Verity needed the support of his people, and he would not have it if he allowed them to ignore his existence. I shook my head to myself.

Happily, Serene and her coterie of Skilled-ones were present at the feast. Serene seemed as dour and cold as ever, looking displeased to allow even the smallest portion of bread to pass her lips. I did not miss Galen's enforced privation, and I relished a large bite of goose. There were few people who wanted to talk to the Farseer bastard, but I made a bit of small talk with my neighbors, the second son of a minor lord and a wealthy merchant's daughter. When people began moving between tables to chat, I took a sip of wine and excused myself.

I could not guarantee how long the Skilled-ones would remain at the dinner, but I counted myself lucky that they'd been seated in places of honour. It would not be so easy for them to slip away and it would be bad form to offend one of the royal family. I exited the hall, made a show of heading toward a garderobe just in case, and then slipped into a servant's stairway.

I took a calming breath before I entered Serene's chambers. It had been tempting to leave them for last, but she was the Skillmistress now and the most powerful of their small group. Nevertheless, just the feeling of entering what my mind considered to be Galen's territory made my mouth dry. It was not easy to forget a man who had nearly killed me and had scarred my mind with his skill. Just in case, I set my walls tightly.

Serene's quarters were exactly what I would have expected from her. Had I not known better, I would have thought them unoccupied. Not a single tapestry hung on the empty walls, nor did any rug temper the coldness of the stone floor. It made my task easier, since I would not need to be wary of leaving footprints. There was a writing desk in the far corner of the room, and this I inspected carefully. Serene had been one of Fedwren's best students long ago, and I wondered if anything of that girl remained in the woman she'd become. Parchment and vellum were neatly stacked awaiting use, and I made sure that they were blank throughout. The drawers did not seem to have any false backs or bottoms. No mechanisms to open panels in the sides could be revealed. To my annoyance, Serene had not left even a half finished letter to be found. Any waste was apparently cleared away regularly. 

The bedchamber yielded nothing of interest. Serene's few garments were neatly stowed. Nothing was hidden in her linens. There were no herbs or medicines. I briefly reflected that if I had wanted to kill her, I would have had to put something into her firewood or clothing. There were no trinkets or keepsakes in her rooms at all, I noticed, and I wondered what Galen had done to her to so erase any trace of who she'd once been. In a way, I pitied her. Wondering what he'd done to her made me recall what he'd done to me, and I pushed those thoughts aside.

I found nothing of interest in Carrod's chambers or Burl's, but I had not been expecting much. With so much time spent away from the keep, I doubted that there would be any evidence there even if they had been involved in the leaking of information. Still, Chade would have been furious if I had not been thorough. That left me with Will's and Justin's rooms.

Will's room was not so sparsely furnished as Serene's had been, but it was tidy. There were a few scrolls and bound books arranged on his desk, and I made note of the topics. Histories, mostly, with nothing pertaining to the Skill. Privately, I was a bit surprised. All of the keep's children were taught their letters, but I doubted that any read for pleasure. No hidden compartments were evident in his desk. As he was not of so high a status as Serene, he'd been given a room like my own with bed, desk, and table all in one. I was checking the bedposts when I heard a noise at the door. Cursing myself, I melted back into the shadows between the desk and the wardrobe. I'd concealed weapons on my person as was usual, but I could not attack Will in his own chamber. Spilled blood would be difficult to explain. In other small pockets of my jacket, I had powders and herbs. I felt for one that, when inhaled, would soon cause the victim to lose consciousness and held the packet in my palm.

No candle was lit, and the door was shut with careful quietness. Did they suspect my presence? I held as still as possible, poised to act should I be noticed. With great caution, I looked toward the door.

It was not Will. I found that I felt first surprise and then betrayal. As suspicious as I had been, I had hoped that I would be proven wrong. It was the Fool who stood there. The pain and anger that I felt upon that realization burned first hot and then cold so that I was first pained and then numb. How to describe what I felt upon the realization that my best friend had not been my friend at all, but had instead been deceiving me? It was not something that I knew to be a fact, but it was something that I felt as keenly as though it were.

In that instant, I retreated away from myself and shut those things away, deep in the darker places of my mind. I would deal with my own feelings later. My mind cleared and I took a slow, quiet breath. I secreted away my packet of powder. If the Fool were there for the same reasons that I was, it would have been good to observe him at it. Unfortunately, there was no hiding place that would conceal me. Before his eyes could adjust to the dim light, I sprang.

The Fool's hands came up reflexively to shield himself as he perceived an attack, but I was stronger than he was and at an advantage. I pressed one hand over his mouth to muffle any protest and held him back against the wall, positioning myself so that the tumbler would be unable to worm away. Under my hands, I felt the Fool struggle, freeze, and then relax as he recognized me. His breath came in tiny warm puffs against my fingers. After a moment, he raised one of his hands to push gently on my chest, a quiet request to release him.

And I did. I let myself relax as though I'd just recognized my friend, and I stepped out of his space, placing myself subtly between him and the door.

”Fool. What are you doing here?” I asked, quieter than a whisper.

He shook his head, leaning forward and taking a few more breaths. “You frightened me,” he said, matching my volume.

I could not question him there, since we would almost certainly be caught. More likely, I could not question him at all, if only because I was not confident that I would believe anything that he said. I gestured at the door. The Fool shook his head. He surprised me by following docilely as I led him out of the room and down the corridor. In fact, he seemed almost pleased. He stumbled twice and I had to wonder if he'd had wine, or spent too much time near King Shrewd's medicines. I brought us to a halt once I judged that we were a sufficient distance away and in a reasonably secluded spot. The place also had the advantage of narrow passageways and only two directions to proceed in. If the Fool tried to escape, I would have a good chance at catching him. As it was, he did not seem to see me as a threat.

The Fool smiled boyishly at me, looking as though we'd shared some adventure. “I had a feeling. I could see the threads but knew not where they went or why. I was curious, and so I thought to look, and who should I see but my catalyst, in the same time and place as I. Coincidence? Perhaps for others, but not for us.” He tilted sideways alarmingly and then caught himself against the wall. His expression turned distressed. “I think that I might be sick.”

I did not understand a word of his nonsense, and I did not know whether I could believe him or not. I'd feigned drunkenness when it suited me in the past, after all, and I was no longer sure what the Fool was capable of. His act, if it were indeed an act, suited me well, though. I took hold of his arm. “Come on, let's get you to your rooms.”

I did not speak as I led him through disused corridors and up the narrow staircase. The Fool leaned on my arm and did not seem inclined to talk either, which was rare. That part of the keep was quiet, but though the place was still, my mind was not as I attempted to sort through what had happened. I could think of no reason for the Fool to be intruding into Will's room other than to try to find some secret information that only he or another Skilled-one would be privy to. If he had been working under Chade's, King Shrewd's, or even Verity's orders, I was sure that I would have been informed.

That left me the matter of what to do. As Chade's apprentice, I had learned many ways to extract information from a man. Would any of it be believable, and was I capable of using those tools of my trade against someone who had been my closest friend?

And, I reminded myself, though the circumstances were incriminating, perhaps there was some explanation I had not thought of that would make sense. I could ignore the matter. I could pretend that I suspected nothing, and then report to Chade. Let him deal with it. It was tempting, so tempting to retreat from the matter and lick my wounds alone.

We were most of the way up the stair when the Fool swayed and then sat abruptly, pulling me to a halt, so that I had to hold a hand out to stop myself from losing my balance. I frowned. “Fool?”

The Fool sat with his head on his knees. “A moment, please, Fitzy,” he mumbled.

Concern warred with my wariness and my pain. I bent down and put a hand on his back. I could feel him breathing in shallow gasps. I waited and said nothing. After a time, he got up and we continued on.

When we reached his chamber door, he looked at me and attempted a smile. I cut him off before he could speak, forestalling his protests. “You can hardly walk, Fool. I should at least see you to your bed so that I can be sure you haven't fallen over.”

The Fool huffed. “If I did, it would be my own fault. You have offered your assistance and I refuse it, though I thank you for escorting me all the way up here.”

A spark of suspicion rose in me again and I quelled it, but allowed it to sharpen my determination. I allowed hurt to show on my features. It was not difficult. “You've cared for me before, you even slept at my bedside. I'm worried for you. Will you not allow me to repay some of that debt?”

It worked. To my surprise, the Fool looked at me searchingly and then bowed his head. Haltingly he said: “Very well, then. Yes. I suppose that it's alright.”

”Thank you,” I said. The Fool opened his door and allowed me in. I walked him to his bed as promised, and I felt him trembling as I supported him. Nerves or illness, I could not say. The sun was setting, but the windows allowed in enough natural light to see by. In the dimness, I saw the Fool's tiny moss gardens and the fish swimming in their little bowls. A tiny porcelain doll rested peacefully in its cradle.

The Fool sat at the edge of his bed and looked away from me. “Well, then. You've done your duty. You may consider your debt paid. Thank you.”

I pressed my hand to his forehead and felt its warmth. The Fool took a tiny indrawn breath. I shook my head at him. “You've still got a fever. Have you used the medicines I gave you?”

The Fool sat very still until I took my hand away, and then he nodded. “Yes.”

”Anything else?” I asked.

”No.”

”Let me see your wound. If it's infected, perhaps you need something else.” I reached for his shirt.

”No.” He batted my hand away and then held tightly to his shirt laces.

”It's dangerous to ignore such things.”

The Fool shook his head. “I'm not, I haven't. It's fine, really it is. You can go now, Fitz.”

I sighed, annoyance building. I suspected him of treason, and still I had suspended my own suspicions, my pain at the possible, no, _likely_ betrayal, in order to care for him because he was my friend. And then he stubbornly refused my aid. How stupid was I? Frustrated beyond my limit, I pushed him down and wrenched his hands away. Pinning him there, I bowed my head.

”Fool, do you know how frustrating you are? I do not know for what reason you keep all of the secrets that you do, or how much of a fool you take me for, but still I want to believe that you are my friend. You make that very hard for me.”

The Fool was still beneath me and he did not reply for some moments. I do believe that he was at a loss for words. “I am your friend always, Fitz. But to me, such feelings do not hinge themselves on... What I mean to say is that I have done my best to respect your secrets and your boundaries, and I do not think you less of a friend for having them.” His words were a reproach, then he added, “My wound is fine, so you need not be so upset.”

I tightened my grip on his wrists. “Eda's mercy, Fool, I am not speaking only of your modesty! All of this time, I've believed you to be my friend. You know what I am, how I know not, but you must realize that I cannot ignore the things you've done. You tampered with Verity's tea, you stole his scrolls from my room, you've been privy to King Shrewd's conversations, you've been manipulating Kettricken -- do not pretend otherwise, so many other things, and today I find you sneaking into one of the Skilled-Ones' chambers. We suspect a traitor in the keep, Fool. By all rights, I could poison you and be done with it, just to err on the side of caution. I could force you to tell me what you know. I don't want to. Please, Fool.” I did not know for what I begged him, but I surprised myself with the force of my emotion. I did not want to be the assassin's boy, not then.

”Oh,” the Fool breathed. There was silence for a time in which we both looked at one another. It was difficult for me to meet the Fool's colourless eyes, but I managed it, just for a moment. “I explained it to you once, I thought you'd understood. My purpose in life. The White Prophet must steer the course of history toward a better path. All of those things, I see now how they must have appeared, but I assure you, Fitzy, that all was done to ensure that the Farseers survive and rule. I am young for my kind, I suppose that I have been clumsy.”

I shook my head. “I cannot trust you based on your words alone...” I sighed and when I looked at him, I was friend and assassin both. “Will you allow me to search your room? I won't destroy anything.”

The Fool laughed humourlessly. “I haven't much choice, have I? Thank you for asking, even if it was only a courtesy.”

I nodded and released my friend, leaving him to sit up and rub his wrists. I crossed the room and lit an oil lamp, then built up the fire while I was at it, because the evening chill was beginning to creep into the room. While I did that, the Fool lay down in bed, pulled the blanket over himself and curled up on his side. He must truly have been feeling poorly, or else he could not bear to watch my invasion of his privacy.

The Fool's room was kept meticulously clean. In my training, I had learned to pay particular attention to dust and clutter, so that anything I moved could be put back without looking as though it had been touched. There was very little dust to be found in the Fool's room, and every little pot, jar, or bowl was lovingly cared for and filled with moss or such herbs as would grow in the light of the window. These I glanced over and knew to be harmless things, mostly favoured for their fragrances. There was a fine book, bound in the southern style, with beautiful illustrations of plants and animals. I was impressed with the quality of it, and set it carefully back on his small writing desk. Scrolls were neatly housed in a scroll rack, and I took my time to look at each one. The topics were many and varied, from short histories and amusing tales, to some list of the sorts of fish that might be found in the White Sea. There were some in languages that I could not read, written on very fine paper, and I wished that I knew what they said. I would not ask the Fool, though. Not while I searched for some evidence of his treason. 

I searched well and thoroughly. No trace of any incriminating correspondence could be found. That did not mean that the Fool was not perfectly capable of performing some intrigue simply by talking with the right people, but his appearance was so unique that I doubted very much that he would have been able to maintain such a role for long. The Fool owned no lock-picks (I wondered how he had succeeded in breaking into my quarters), and he had no stash of coins or other riches that I could find. Only a handful of coppers and a few silver pieces stored away in his purse. A search of the pockets of his colourful garments yielded no more than some ribbons and handkerchiefs. The longer I searched, the more relieved I felt. With my relief came guilt, so that by the time I was inspecting the cradle that held the Fool's little doll, I felt as though each touch of my hands tainted the little world I had forced my way into.

I was inspecting the legs of his chair, feeling simultaneously hopeful and like the worst friend in existence, when I heard the Fool make a distressed noise behind me. I watched while he struggled free of his covers and retched into the chamber pot, then I looked away and ignored the sounds of his misery, not out of any unkindness but because I felt like I'd already stripped him of too much of his privacy. When he seemed to have finished, I poured him a cup of water from the pitcher and brought it to him. He took it while avoiding my eyes, rinsed his mouth, and spat before taking a drink.

”Are you alright?” I asked, quietly.

”Only dizzy. I think I shall sleep once you've finished assuring yourself that I am not a spy.” He wrinkled his nose at the mess, and then pulled himself up to lay down on the bed again. I did not think I had the right to help him, but I did anyway, and I pulled the blanket over him before sitting down at the foot of the bed.

”I'm sorry, Fool. You understand how it seemed, though. You have to stop being so secretive.”

The Fool scoffed, pulling the blanket over his head. “Must I point out to you exactly how that sounds coming from your lips? I don't think I'll bother. You might misunderstand and decide to have me hanged.”

”Fool...” I sighed. It was not in me to regret what I had done. I had needed to know if my suspicions were true, and I was glad that they had not been. I was not happy to have hurt the Fool's feelings, but I felt that my suspicions had been reasonable in the circumstances. Perhaps when he felt well again, he'd understand. I only hoped that I had not damaged our friendship beyond repair. I cast my mind back to think if there were anything that I could have done differently. I could have turned a blind eye, perhaps, but that would not have solved anything. I could have turned the matter over to Chade, but a part of me had feared that Chade would have gone too far.

The Fool pushed the blanket off of his face again and looked at me from the corner of his eye. “Do stop fretting, Fitz. I like you very much, I am simply very cross with you at present. I would appreciate it if you left after you finished with your business.”

I was reassured, and I felt doubly guilty for having required it after what I'd done. “Will you be alright?”

The Fool did not answer me. I left, shutting the door quietly behind myself.


	13. Revenge (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been ages, hasn't it? This is only a piece of a chapter, and I'm very sorry. I'm still not quite back into the mindset I need for writing this fic, but it's been months and so I decided to post what I've managed to get done. In other news, this story will be wrapping up soon (or as soon as I can actually write it). My plan is to merge right back into Chapter 18 of Royal Assassin and keep things fully cannon-compliant. Please let me know what you think about that, because there are many things that are tempting to write but not necessarily cannon-compliant. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your patience and your encouragement!

_A month later, to Verity’s chagrin, we would receive word that a vessel matching the_ Revenge _’s description was pirating in the calmer waters to the south of the Six Duchies and bringing much misery… Some believe it was then that he decided to sacrifice himself in the hopes of finding a final solution._

”Royal Assassin” Chapter 18, by Robin Hobb published by Bantam Spectra 1996

. 

I was unsurprised that the keep was still buzzing with activity when I descended the stairs. Rather than allow the merriment to reach its natural conclusion, Regal seemed determined to prolong his enjoyment. It was very late by the time I’d finished my inspection of the Fool’s quarters, but I decided to circle back past the Great Hall so that I would appear to be leaving the party. The roar of voices was like the raging wind of a storm within its walls, and the minstrels’ music was fighting to be heard over the cacophony. I slipped by bleary eyed kitchen boys and harassed looking maids bearing fresh food and drink into the sea of inebriated noblemen and ladies, and put a tipsy smile on my face that was greatly at odds with my current mood.

I felt filthy at the same time that I felt relief, and my relief was tarnished with guilt so that I found even that happiness difficult to hold on to. The Fool had not betrayed me. I flexed my hands and dug the nails into my palms as I ascended the three flights of stairs to my room. I felt tired from all of the highs and lows I’d experienced that day. I thought back to my paranoia and the crushing hurt I’d felt at the mere thought that the Fool could have been a traitor. Surely I had been justified in my suspicions after examining the facts at hand. So, why was it that I felt soiled by my actions? At the time, I had felt that the only way to escape my upset was to confront the Fool. Now, I felt mostly regret.

But I had done what I’d needed to do.

The Fool was not a traitor, and surely I should be allowed to enjoy that.

Resolving to let that be that, I stubbornly kicked off my boots and found my bed. I felt Nighteyes nudge my mind with his, like the touch of his muzzle, but I ignored him.

The next morning, I entered Verity’s tower room and nearly dropped his tray when an object flew past my head into the wall with a startling crash. Pieces of the little flower vase were scattered in a small pool of water only two paces from my side. I stared at them, and then at my prince, frozen in place. Verity stood by the window, panting audibly. His shoulders- once broad and straight, now thin and bent- heaved with every breath. He looked at me and it took several moments for recognition to dawn in his expression. I licked my lips and then slowly crossed to the table, where I set down my burden and then, rather numbly, wondered how I would clean up the mess. Having felt his displeasure before, I think that I took refuge in solving that immediate problem. I took the napkin from his tray and then stooped to clear the broken shards.

”Damn it, FitzChivalry, stop that at once,” Verity barked.

I froze again and stood to face him, the napkin still clutched in one hand. “My prince…?” I asked, confused and wary. I could not think of anything I’d done to anger him so, and the only possibility I could come up with was that he’d seen something in the Skill. Galen had frightened us with stories, some times, of what could happen when one didn’t have adequate control over one’s Skill. There had been novice Skill users who’d been driven out of their senses, or who had even attacked members of their own coterie. I did not think that was the case, but the look in Verity’s eyes was almost wild.

”You are my brother’s son,” he said. The rage in his expression softened and the look that replaced it was stricken. I felt my worry increase. I would have preferred his anger to this awful sadness. Verity crossed to his chair and sank into it. When he continued to speak, his tone was weary. “Eda. You’re Chiv’s son. What business do you have acting the part of servant?”

I looked at the tray on the table, and then back at my prince. I had borne his meals to him for weeks. Had he forgotten? My brow furrowed, but I said nothing. I was not sure how to deal with this version of my uncle. After a tense moment he shook his head and sighed.

”I’m sorry. I’m sorry, FitzChivalry. Don’t look at me like that. It’s been a difficult morning for me.”

”What happened?” I asked, coming to sit across from him. I judged it to be safe, and my concern shifted toward more tangible things than my prince’s sanity. Had there been another raid, despite the coming of winter? More forged ones sighted?

Verity looked at me for a time in which I thought he might have been judging me. I did not know what he wanted, so I simply looked back. I must have passed his test, because with a sigh, he dug into his pocket and withdrew a note. He shoved it toward me, ignoring his breakfast tray, and I took it. While I read, Verity frowned at the tabletop. The fingers of one of his hands moved restlessly, as though he longed for his sword. 

I frowned in disbelief at the parchment. “The _Revenge_ has turned pirate?”

”El take every one of them,” Verity cursed. It was rare to see him so incensed, but I did not blame him. Verity had put a lot of faith in his war ships, and when only one would sail so close to winter, he’d outfitted it almost extragavantly. Those ships had been the one thing he felt he’d been able to do for his people aside from Skill. He’d needed them to be effective, not only for the Six Duchies but also for his pride. This betrayal had shaken him to his core. I felt his fury and despair both, and I mistook it for my own for a time before I realized what was happening. I put my Skill walls up.

Verity did not seem to notice that he was Skilling out his feelings. “Have they no loyalty?” He demanded. “What sort of world is this when our own people would turn against us in a time of war?”

I folded the note and passed it back. When he made no move to take it, I left it on the table. “Will you be sending men to stop them?”

A bitter laugh. “How can I not? They’re almost worse than the Red Ships. What must Bingtown and Chalced think of me? What must our own folk think of me? And yet, how can I send anyone when not a single ship will sail, and there is so much to be done here? I’m powerless.”

I fidgeted with the edge of my tunic. Looking at Verity, I suddenly felt very silly for having been so consumed with my own concerns. He had been spending his strength recklessly with his Skilling, and he was Regent in all but title over a land that had been plagued for years by war. A war that we were losing. The weight on his shoulders dwarfed mine by far. Verity let out a shuddering sigh. I was not sure what to do in the face of such honest emotion. I took a breath and thought carefully before I spoke. I knew how much this news had crushed him. I had felt it.

”You’ve done so much for the Six Duchies already, Verity. Forgive me, but I think that the opinions of Bingtown and Chalced matter very little unless you plan to entreat them to ally with us. You could offer a reward for the capture of the _Revenge_ and her crew rather than send your own men.”

They were useless words, really. He knew them as well as I did, I was sure. What truly mattered was not what Bingtown and Chalced thought of him, but what he thought of himself. I knew that, I felt it, but I did not know what I could do about it.

”Yes. Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Verity said. Now that his anger had left him, he looked more tired than I had ever seen him. “I apologize again for frightening you. Leave me for a time, would you?”

I nodded, feeling inadequate and wishing that there were something I could say or do to help. I stood, walked to the door, and hesitated. “If there’s any way in which I can be of some help to you, Verity, you know that I would do anything.”

Verity was quiet, and I almost thought that he didn’t hear me. Perhaps he’d already begun to Skill. As I was turning to leave again, he said: “I know, FitzChivalry. The problem is that I don’t know what more I can do, never mind you.”

The depth of despair in his voice felt like a physical pain, and I reflexively strengthened my Skill walls. The reaction had been my own, though. I cleared my throat, but could find no words to say that might cheer him. It was difficult for me to see my future king, my uncle, so devastated. I bowed my head and left the room, shutting the door behind me.


	14. Revenge (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like I'll be posting this chapter scene by scene. One more to go for Revenge!
> 
> A big, gigantic thanks to AdamantMackay99 for helping me to find Fitz's voice again, for a wonderful friendship, and for helping me locate my feelings. They'd been tucked away in a dragon somewhere, and I need those to write!

The day was filled with my usual chores and training. I took my midday meal in the men-at-arms room, and there I listened to the murmurs about the _Revenge_. No-one said outright that Verity had failed, but the men’s tones were dark and cynical, and I clenched my hand around my knife as I thought of the broken man in the tower high above the sea.

I thought to seek some comfort from Molly that night. She was the one thing in my life that I had chosen for myself, the one beautiful and good thing that I kept separate from the darker parts of myself. I hadn’t wanted to taint her with them. I wanted to be Newboy to her. Not the bastard, not the assassin’s apparentice. She had loved me for myself, and not for how useful I could make myself.

But my hand halted as I raised it to knock on her chamber door. I lowered it slowly, and bowed my head so that my brow pressed against the warm wood of her door. My throat closed, and I shut my eyes. I had chosen her with my heart, but I knew that it meant nothing until my decision was not simply having, but giving up. An overwhelming wave of agony washed over me, and I felt as though I would be sick. She was unhappy with what I had to offer her. Truly, she did deserve better than what little of me was left after my duty to the Farseers stripped my bones clean.

She wanted me to choose, and I knew what I would decide.

The fruitknife was still embedded in Chade’s mantelpiece. A reminder to us both.

I must have made some sound, because the door opened and I staggered to keep my footing. Molly was looking up at me with wide eyes. I must have looked frightening.

”Fitz?” She breathed, and then she pulled me into her quarters. I let myself be pulled after her, and I stood with my head bowed while she shut and latched the door.

”Newboy, what’s wrong?” Her use of my childhood nickname was usually like a balm to me - a reminder of better days- but today it only hurt. Molly, my beautiful, strong Molly came to me and took my face in her two hands. Hands made rough by a servant’s work in her lover’s home. Her thumbs brushed against my cheeks. I raised my hands and gripped hers with a trembling strength that must have hurt her, though she gave no protest. She looked at me with such love and concern in her eyes, that I nearly broke. Perhaps I did.

”Molly,” I choked. I went to my knees before her, still clutching her two hands in mine like a lifeline. “My name _isn’t_ Newboy,” I said, and the words felt as though they tore at my throat and made me bleed as they left me. I would never be able to unsay them. “My name is FitzChivalry Farseer. I know. I know that you want me to choose, and you deserve it. You deserve so much more than I could ever give you. You are… The only thing that I’ve ever wanted for myself. I wanted to be Newboy for you, but I can’t. I love you more than anything, more than I could ever put to words. You’re beautiful, and strong, and kind. I want nothing more in life than to marry you, have children with you, and live in a quiet town somewhere. You with your beehives, and I with my scribing. I want it so badly, Molly. Please. Please don’t make me choose. I can’t do it. It would destroy me, and I don’t think that I could survive it. Please…”

Selfishly, I begged her. She deserved better, but I could not do the decent thing and release her from her obligations to me. I honestly believe that it would have killed me. I leaned forward and buried my face in her skirts like a child. I could not look at her. Gently, she tugged her hands from my grip and I thought that she would push me away. Instead, her hands came to rest on my hair, and I felt her fingers carding through it.

”Alright,” I heard her say. Her voice trembled, but it held firm. I thought that she might have been crying, but I could not bring myself to look up. “Alright, FitzChivalry Farseer. I won’t ask you to choose.” She knelt down and folded her arms around me, holding me close to her. I clutched her to me and buried my nose in her hair, breathing in her sweet scent. Trying to burn it into my memory. I could not tell her to go, but I could never ask her to stay and face the future that awaited her as the bastard’s lover. In that moment, I knew that I would lose her.

We were both crying when she kissed me, and I returned her kiss with all of the love and passion that I felt for her. It was unmanly the way I wept, but she seemed not to mind. We kissed again, and I wished that it would last forever. Wished that things had been different, and that I were only Newboy. We made love that night, full of tender caresses and whispered words of adoration. I would not have given up those moments for anything, but a part of me wished that she would hurt me, scream at me. I deserved it more than the understanding she’d given me.

We dozed, tangled in eachother’s limbs and breathing eachother’s breath. It was a jarring reminder of all that was wrong with our relationship when, in the hour just before dawn, Molly nudged me awake so that I could sneak from her rooms. I wished that I could show the world how proud I was that she was mine.

”I love you, Molly,” I whispered.

”I love you too, Newboy,” she said. It hurt.

”I’m not…”

”Hush. You are. You’ve always been Newboy. Now go,” she said, and turned aside to blink away her tears. “Before someone sees you.”

I wanted to say more. I wanted to wipe away her tears and hold her in my arms. Instead, I turned and left. I heard the door shut quietly behind me in the darkness.


	15. Revenge (Part 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final part of the chapter "Revenge". Thank you for your patience, and thank you very much to AdamantMackay99 for helping me through my writer's block and for being excellent company!

Knowing that Molly could not possibly decide to stay after what I’d said, I went to my bed feeling as though my heart had been pulled from my chest. A familiar bleakness of spirit settled over me, and I could not help but list my failings to myself. I was unable to help Verity. A child could have brought him his meals, and I felt worse than useless watching while he wasted away and I did nothing. Perhaps I could have lent him my strength more often, or perhaps I should have reminded him to train me in his Skill attacks, so that I could take his place while he went more among his people. That would have left me unavailable to do my duty for Chade, but I had been failing on that side as well. I’d discovered no useful information regarding the traitor, and in the course of my investigations I had damaged my friendship with the Fool. Possibly beyond repair. And Molly. Molly had deserved so much more than what I had left to give. I felt Nighteyes brush his mind against mine, like the push of his head beneath my hand, and that, too, caused me to feel a surge of guilt and self-loathing. I’d spared him hardly any time at all. I had spread myself too thinly, like a watered down soup that could fill many bowls but satisfy no-one.

Getting up and going on has always been a struggle for me when such a mood takes me, but still I rose the next morning, washed my face, dressed, and shaved. I felt curiously empty.

After bringing breakfast to an equally despondant Verity, I found myself at a loss. There seemed to be no point to hunting after a spy when all my efforts had yielded nothing. In a fit of something like rebellion, I decided that I would do no spying that day. It was almost freeing. There was nothing that I could do for Verity, and nothing more that I could do to hunt down our traitor until I had a place to aim my attention. Bizarrely, my sense of hopelessness led me to give up my efforts, but the moment I accepted that I could do no more than I had done, I felt better. I stood there on the stairs blinking like an idiot.

_Now you see, brother?_ Nighteyes prodded me. He had found himself a place to sleep and was stretching lazily. _Better to chase one deer and kill it, than to run in circles after the whole herd. Even worse to snap after game that has already fled._

I shook my head to myself, amazed that what seemed intuitive to Nighteyes had been such a revelation to me. Very well, then. What prey was within my reach? It had been right to give up on ferreting out the spy, at least until Chade could relay to me some new information. I felt a sharp pang at the thought of Molly, but knew that our conversation had been for the best. I could not give her more than I had already, and now she knew. Verity had seemed exhausted and melancholy, and I doubted that I could be of any service to him. With my string of failings behind me, I could do nothing but continue forward and try to make the best of what remained to me piece by piece. Whether that led to ruin or not remained to be seen, but I shed my useless burdens like a sodden cloak. 

My feet took me to another tower. As I came nearer to the Fool’s chamber, I called to mind Patience’s advice. I had no gift, but I would apologize sincerely, owning what I had done, and I would say something nice. Absorbed as I was in planning my words, I almost walked into a girl on the stairs. She bore with her a tray and bouquet of flowers, and I thought that she might have been a maid until I noticed the golden colour of her hair, and her freckles as she turned to look at me with wide eyes. It was Garetha. Her eyes flickered from my face to my clothing, and I saw her mark the crest upon my breast. She dipped into an awkward curtsey.

”A thousand pardons, sir. I, ah- I was only…” She cast a look at the closed door to the Fool’s room.

”You came to call upon the Fool?” I inquired. It had been a while, but I recalled the time I’d seen her with the Fool and his evasion of my questions when I’d confronted him about her. Not friends; not lovers either. “I was just coming to see him myself, but I can come back later,” I said, rather awkwardly. As I began to turn away, she suddenly stepped closer, and her tray and flowers were pushed into my hands. Her cheeks had flushed red, and for some reason she seemed a bit sad. She wouldn’t meet my gaze while she spoke.

”You should go, sir. It’s alright, really.”

I looked down at the tray. The bouquet was a full one, and featured a great many blue and yellow flowers that I had never seen in the gardens before. A covered bowl and a small plate of fruit were dwarfed next to it, and a small pot of tea was nestled in a corner. “Um. If you’re certain.” I looked at her, a puzzled frown on my face.

Garetha bobbed another curtsey. “Good day, sir,” she said, and then was gone, dashing down the stairs.

With an internal shrug, I balanced the tray on one arm and approached the Fool’s door. Now that I’d arrived, I was suddenly hesitant and I reminded myself of the way I’d stood outside of Molly’s door. This wouldn’t be that, I reassured myself. I was there to repair what remained of our friendship. I knocked. There was silence from within. I knocked again, and thought that perhaps the Fool had already begun his day. I was about to turn and give up, when I heard a muffled sound from within and a muted cry.

I was reluctant to enter without permission after what I’d done two days prior, but my concern overrode my caution. I tried the door and found it unlatched, so I entered.

The Fool was there, sitting on the floor beside his bed with a dazed expression. I surmised that he’d probably risen and then fallen to the ground. I hurried to his side and knelt, setting my tray on the ground. He stared at me as though I were a ghost, and I felt my concern grow.

”Fool? Are you hurt?”

A milk-white hand came up and reached toward my face. The touch of the Fool’s fingertips was reassuringly cold, and they drifted over my features as lightly as a breeze, lingering beneath my right eye, tracing the line of my nose, and investigating a lock of hair over my brow. It was very unusual.

”Fool,” I repeated more loudly. “What are you doing? Let’s get you back into bed.” I reached for him and managed to haul him to his feet before guiding him to sit at the edge of the bed. Clearly, he had not quite recovered from whatever’d ailed him the night I ransacked his rooms. He continued to stare at me, and he reached for my face again, following an invisible line down my cheek.

”Fitz?” The Fool breathed at last. His eyes wandered over my face. “When is this? Do I dream, or was it a dream before? You look very young.”

”I’m two days older than I was when we last spoke,” I said, confused and wary that this was the prelude to some jest. I then stooped to retrieve the tray and set it on the sidetable. The Fool watched my actions avidly, and I felt a bit awkward under such intense observation. I felt much like I had when I’d broken something in the stables, wondering whether I could fix the thing or if I would face Burrich’s displeasure. “I came to apologize. It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions the way I did, and I should not have intruded upon your privacy. You have always been a good friend to me, and that was a poor way to repay that friendship. I… I should have trusted you.”

My carefully thought out words were wasted, because the Fool swayed and then toppled forward. I barely managed to catch him by the shoulders. His head lolled, but then I felt his hand come up and grip my arm to steady himself. Cursing under my breath, I supported him against my chest while I pushed the blankets aside and then helped him to lay down. He was like a doll.

”What’s the matter with you?” I asked, my alarm making my tone sharper than I’d intended.

”I’m fine,” the Fool insisted, though I could not see why he bothered to lie. He struggled to push himself back up, and I could see the way his arms shook with the effort. He gave up and sank back against his pillow.

I frowned at him. “You aren’t,” I argued. “Have you had a healer look at you?”

The Fool made to shake his head, but the motion seemed to cause him some difficulty because he stopped and swallowed. “No,” he answered. I was pleased that he at least seemed more alert than he had when I’d come in. His eyes still wandered over my features as though he were not quite sure that I was real.

I heaved a sigh. I should have guessed that, based on his aversion to healers. On his sidetable was a mug and I took it, thinking that I could at least make him drink. It was cold, and I looked at the remaining tea that sat in it dubiously, with no idea how long it had been there. I decided to pour it out, but before I could rise, something caught my eye and I frowned into the mug. Some small, pale crystals appeared to have formed and settled to the bottom of the liquid, or else never have dissolved in the first place. I swirled the liquid and watched the tiny particles move. If it had been darker, or if I had been less observant, I might not have noticed. Chade had taught me many things during my training, including the concealment of various compounds within food and drink. One had to be careful with some things, because a powder that disappears into a hot liquid like soup or tea, may sometimes come out of solution once the medium has cooled.

I sat very still and wondered if I were being ridiculous. My heart was racing, but surely it was nothing. But if it wasn’t, who would want to harm the Fool? I thought of Regal’s sneering, and I thought of Chade’s sharp look while he questioned me about him. I thought also of how many secrets of Shrewd’s the Fool had likely been privy to over the years.

Feeling sick, I slowly set the mug back down.

”Why are you here?” the Fool asked, and I did not acknowledge his question. 

”Fool,” I said, trying not to let my alarm show in my voice, “Can you tell me what you’re feeling, and how long you’ve been ill?”

The Fool seemed to have recovered himself somewhat, because he gave me a withering look. He was well enough for that. “Why? Have you begun to suspect me of something else now? Are you worried that this is all a ruse, and I’ve been sneaking about stealing secrets?”

I deserved his biting words, but my anxiety had shortened my patience. “Eda and El in a tangle, just tell me!”

I had the small satisfaction of seeing his eyes go slightly wider at my raised voice. He blinked at me several times, and pressed his lips together. I knew that he was still upset with me, but I gave him a hard look until he relented and spoke. When he did, he looked away from me and gave a small huff. “What I’ve been feeling? Annoyed. With you, as it happens, so it’s funny that you should ask.” He hesitated and glanced at me, then continued in a quieter voice after seeing my unimpressed glare. “Dizzy, mostly. More often now than before. At times my strength will desert me, and I’ve been clumsy… You needn’t concern yourself, Fitz, really. I’m quite alright.”

I shut my eyes and sighed. I doubted that very much. “Why didn’t you say something?” Why hadn’t I paid more attention when I saw the Fool fumble his juggling in the great hall, or when he’d been sick while I searched his room? I had been too concerned with a hundred other things, I thought with shame. Again, my divided attentions had rendered me a failure in all aspects.

The Fool sighed out a breath and raised a hand. It shook alarmingly while he pushed his hair out of his face. It struck me that the Fool seemed young without his face paint and the armour of his smirks and biting wit. His eyes went to the ceiling and then found my face again. He frowned. “I dreamed something,” he said urgently. “About a cat and a boy. I need to write it down.”

I shut my eyes and my worry morphed into irritation that made me ignore his rambling. Delirious, I decided, and confused based on the way he had greeted me. He was weak, dizzy, and uncoordinated, but without fever. I tried to think of what substance caused those symptoms, and as the list grew in my mind, so did my anxiety. Though I had little proof, I felt sure that someone intended to kill the Fool. When had it begun? I doubted that Windfeather’s blade had been poisoned, but perhaps he had struck his head and this was the result of some injury rather than poison. Ignoring the look the Fool gave me, I leaned over to examine him, sliding my fingers through his hair.

”I need to write it down, Fitz. It’s important.”

I paused, confused until I remembered his request. “Did you hit your head at all, Fool?”

The Fool looked offended, and his tone was anxious. “The cat took him on a horse and then she ate him. It was a dream, an important one, so I need to write it down.”

I frowned, having found no evidence of injury. I took up the mug of tea again, and then cast a wary look at the tray that Garetha had put into my arms. I decided that I would take it all away.

”Do you remember from where this came?” I showed him the mug of tea.

The Fool’s lips thinned in displeasure, but he blinked several times at the tea and at last shook his head. “Time has been… difficult. I know not where I am in it, never mind that.”

”I’m going to take these things away. I will bring your food to you, so do not accept anything else.” I shut my eyes briefly and debated with myself a moment before speaking. I did not want to alarm the Fool. “You’ve been ill, and I apologize for failing to notice that. I may be able to help, so please heed my request in this. Take only what I bring you. I do not deserve your trust just now, but I beg you to do this for me.”

The Fool was quiet for a long time. He looked at me, and I wondered what he thought. Did he think that I had been ordered to kill him? Did he have some inkling of my suspicions, or was he as baffled by my behaviour as I was with his? He swallowed and at last he nodded his head.

Though I disposed of the meal that Garetha had brought him, I kept the tea- both what she’d brought and the half-empty mug. It would have been preferable to make use of Chade’s equipment, but at that time I could not completely dispel the notion that Chade might have been behind the poisoning, and so I made use of my own, less extensive set of supplies. I filtered the crystals from the remaining tea, and did my best to coax more from the solution. I could get nothing from Garetha’s. What I managed to collect from the old mug was a small amount, and I used it sparingly in my attempts to deduce what it could be. I heated a small portion to see how long it would take to melt or burn. I tested whether it could be dissolved in alcohol, and water, and how much. Dissolved, I saw that it remained colourless.

Meanwhile, I wondered who could have been responsible. Chade, if he had been ordered to by King Shrewd, but who else? Garetha the garden girl had brought him a tray, and though I found no evidence that she’d tempered with it, I could not help but be suspicious. Regal had certainly had no qualms over using violence to take revenge for the Fool’s mockery of him, but would he go so far as to have him killed? Was it my own dislike of Regal that made me suspect the youngest prince of such a thing?

The following days were a misery to me in a different way from the preceding weeks. I brought Verity his meals in his tower, but other than those small journeys, my attention was solely with the Fool. I feared that I had been too late in my warnings, for the Fool’s condition worsened rapidly. By the evening of that same day, he was unable to stand at all and he complained that his every nerve seemed to be aflame. I hated to leave him, and so I stayed that night in his room as he had done for me, laying on an old blanket on the floor by his bedside while he whimpered.

He was still worse the next day and the next, and my fear for my friend grew. In the rare times that he was conscious at all, he would mostly speak nonsense or simply stare. I cared for him as best I could, bringing him broth to drink and keeping track of his condition by talking to him or asking him to raise his hand to touch mine. I took heart from the fact that he still stubbornly defended his personal privacy. When he had his first seizure in the evening, I despaired that he would recover with time alone.

I left him when it was done, feeling cold and terrified. Nighteyes did not understand my fear when I told him that no threat was present, and even the solidity of his presence in my mind could not stop my heart from racing. I was sure that the Fool would die if I did nothing.

When I returned to my chamber, the secret passageway opened. I know not how long Chade had been hoping to summon me. I went up the stairway and I spoke before he had a chance to reprimand me or demand some explanation for my absence.

”Did you poison the Fool?” I asked. If he had, then I would know and be in no worse a position than I was at that moment. If he had not, then I could seek his advice.

Chade’s brow furrowed and he looked at me incredulously. “I did nothing of the sort. Why? Report, boy.”

And so I did. I told him of everything, sparing no detail. I told him of the way I’d seen the Fool fumble with his juggling, and the way I’d searched his room. I told him of the tea, the Fool’s condition, and of the few tests I’d managed to perform. My anxiety made me speak quickly, but I had been trained to report clearly and well. Chade took his seat while I reported and he listened with a grave expression. When I finished, he spoke.

”You should have come to me sooner, boy, instead of waiting so long.”

I was shamefaced. “I wanted to help him. If you’d done it and I let you know that I knew, you would have stopped me.”

Chade gave me a look. “If you suspected that I’d done it, then you must have known that it would have been at the King’s command. Going against the King’s command deliberately is treason, Fitz.”

”I know that, Chade!” I was tired and worried, and I had no patience for his scolding. “It’s just- I did not want it to be so. If I did not know, then it would not be treason. You told me now that you did not do it, and so will you help me?”

Chade gave a rumbling hum and stroked his beard. He rose and went to pull a dusty tome from one of his shelves. “If you’ve any of the substance left, go and bring it here. Don’t dawdle.”

I went with haste.

When I returned, Chade had his book open and appeared to be in thought. I set my things down on the worktable and looked at him expectantly. He came and took the small sample of the crystals that remained to me, which I’d stored in a small fold of paper. He tapped a small portion out into a clean glass.

Chade’s experiment did not last long, and while he worked he quizzed me. How many days since the Fool had begun to seem ill? Did he take honey in his tea? When he was finished, he huffed in exasperation at me and I felt my anxiety lessen.

”I taught you this weeks ago, boy. Did I not say that you should pay attention instead of complaining? We created a powder much like this from the leaves of the Shepherd’s Rose. Whoever did the job did not do a good one,” Chade added with a snort and a derisive tone. “Fortunate for the Fool that he drinks sweetened tea. An amateur might be tempted to hide any odd taste by masking it with honey, but for some reason that lessens its efficacy. Whoever they are must have sought to compensate by increasing the dose to the point of saturating the tea.”

I stared and searched my memory. “Then the antidote. Can the Fool be saved?”

Chade’s expression was unamused. “Clearly I’ve neglected this half of your education. Come. We’ve some small amount of work to do, but I expect your friend will survive.”

My knees went weak with the strength of my relief and I leaned against the workbench. I shut my eyes and took several long breaths. I did not want to think about what would have happened if I had not sought the Fool that day and discovered his illness. I gave Chade a look of profound gratitude. “Thank you, Chade.”

”You’re welcome, boy. I hope this has taught you that you can come to me with your concerns instead of trying to handle things by yourself. You are my apprentice. Now get over here and help me. You might as well try to learn something from all of this, and remember it this time.”


End file.
